THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

Sy  Henry  W.  Shoemaker 


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Black  Forest  Souvenirs 

Collected  in  Northern  Pennsylvania 

Henry  W.  Shoemaker 

(Author  of  Pennsylvania  Mountain  Stories) 


'But  as  there  are  quiet  spots  in  the  world 
where  drift-wood  accumulates  undisturbed, 
so  there  are  quiet  spots  where  popular 
tales  flourish  in  peace,  because  no  man 
has  interfered  with  them." 

J.  F.  Campbell 
"Popular  Tales  of  the  West  Highlands" 


ILLUSTRATED 

Published  by  Bright-Faust  Printing  Co. 
READING,  PENN'A 

1914 

(Copyrighted,  all  rights  reserved) 


F/€7 


EXPLANATORY  PREFACE. 

The  writer  of  these  lines  has  always  felt  the 
thriU  of  the  words  Black  Forest.  As  a  small 
boy  he  used  to  gaze  at  the  bold  outlines  of  the 
Allegheny  Mountains,  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  broad  valley  from  the  old  fashioned  home 
where  he  spent  most  of  his  time,  which  formed 
the  southern  boundary  of  the  vast  regions  of 
hemlock,  spruce  and  pine.  All  kinds  of  fancies 
flashed  through  his  mind,  dreams  of  strange 
races  of  people,  of  Indians,  of  outlaws,  of  witch- 
es, ghosts,  lumbermen,  wild  beasts    and    birds, 


7581  i;s 


that  must  inhabit  this  wilderness.  And  for  more 
definite  information  he  took  to  inquiring  of  the 
old  people  and  strangers  how  the  Black  Forest 
really  looked,  how  big  it  was  and  who  lived  there. 
The  general  replies  were  that  it  was  a  vast  do- 
main of  enormous  trees,  mostly  evergreens,  that 
it  was  sixty  miles  from  east  to  west,  and  forty 
miles  from  north  to  south,  that  hunters,  lumber- 
men and  some  farmers  lived  in  it,  also  many 
bears  and  deer,  a  few  panthers,  and  that  until 
a  few  years  previously  there  had  been  wolves, 
elks  and  countless  flocks  of  wild  pigeons. 

As  the  result  of  this  information  a  great  long- 
ing arose  in  him  to  visit  the  Black  Forest,  to  see 
it  with  actual  vision,  rather  than  with  the  eye 
of  faith.  Every  account  of  lumbering  or  hunt- 
ing that  had  its  location  there  which  appeared 
in  the  county  newspapers  was  eagerly  read,  and 
enlarged  in  the  imagination;  every  person  was 
questioned  who  might  have  views  of  any  kind 
concerning  it. 

But  life  with  its  strange  deprivations  with- 
held this  joy  until  the  summer  of  1898,  when  the 
writer  was  a  young  college  student.  But  it  was 
not  too  late,  much  of  the  Black  Forest  remained, 
in  range  after  range  of  hemlock-clad  mountains, 


even  though  the  big  lumber  companies  had  com- 
menced their  cruel  inroads.  Many  of  the  old 
pioneers  and  hunters,  as  well  as  a  few  of  the 
Indians,  still  lived,  and  were  ready  to  impart 
their  stories  of  the  past  to  any  respectful  listen- 
er. And  those  days  and  nights  in  the  original 
forest,  amid  strange  scenes  and  stranger  imag- 
eries will  never  be  forgotten.  In  1899,  1900, 
1901  and  1902  other  pilgrimages  through  the 
forest  were  made,  on  foot,  on  horseback  or  in  car- 
riages. The  impression  made  in  1898  was  fur- 
ther cemented  into  the  soul  by  a  host  of  fresh 
experiences  and  dreams.  Then  life  withheld 
the  Black  Forest  until  1907,  although  in  the 
meantime  the  famous  German  Schwarzwald  had 
been  visited  and  admired  and  reverenced. 

But  what  a  change  those  five  years  had  made. 
Where  was  the  Black  Forest?  Miles  of  slash- 
ings, fire-swept  wastes,  emptiness,  desolation, 
ruin  met  the  eye  on  every  side;  the  lumbermen 
had  done  their  work.  Hoping  against  hope,  the 
writer  rode  on,  but  only  dreariness  was  his  por- 
tion. Gone  were  the  hemlocks,  beeches,  maples 
and  pines;  gone  the  sweet  singing  birds,  the 
balmy  breezes,  gone  even  were  the  lumbermen 
with  their  red  or  blue  shirts,  the  lumber  camps. 


the  stemwinder  log  railways,  gone  was  every- 
thing but  ruin.  Other  trips  were  taken  into  the 
"forest"  in  1908,  1909  and  1910.  These  visits 
only  accentuated  the  sense  of  sadness  for  the 
arboreal  paradise  that  was  no  more,  which  on 
the  wholesale  plan,  lumbering  had  swept  away. 
The  hand  of  man  had  changed  the  face  of  nature 
from  green  to  brown.  It  was  during  these  lat- 
ter visits  that  the  writer  thought  more  of  the 
ancient  legends  which  were  so  easy  to  hear  in 
1898,  but  so  difficult  to  obtain  in  1910.  What 
were  listened  to  with  seeming  indifference  then, 
were  listened  to  breathlessly  towards  the  last. 
As  the  result,  the  contents  of  this  volume  were 
obtained,  and  many  more,  and  written  out  in 
the  form  of  notes.  In  order  that  their  origin 
can  be  traced  the  names  of  the  persons  who  told 
the  narratives  are  set  down  in  the  index;  some 
of  these  informants  still  live,  while  others  unfor- 
tunately have  passed  to  their  reward. 

During  the  past  month  or  so  eighteen  of  the 
legends  have  been  transferred  from  notes  into 
enlarged  form.  They  are  exactly  as  told  by  the 
old  people  and  others,  except  that  here  and  there 
names  of  persons  and  places,  and  a  few  dates 
have  been  changed  in  order  to  avoid  giving  of- 


fense.  But  sometimes  the  "offense"  is  on  the 
other  side.  A  letter  was  received  after  the  pub- 
lication last  winter  of  another  collection  of  le- 
gends, "In  the  Seven  Mountains,"  in  which  a 
gentleman,  born  and  raised  in  the  region  de- 
scribed, stated  that  the  stories  were  correct,  only 
they  were  "badly  dislocated."  This  had  been 
purposely  done  in  some  cases,  but  in  others  it 
was  unintentionally  due  to  the  lack  of  exactness 
of  the  various  informants  in  recounting  incidents 
which  happened  years  before.  One  newspaper 
commented  on  the  fact  that  the  characters  used 
such  good  English  in  their  dialogues,  it  seemed 
strange  that  backwoodsmen  could  be  such  rhe- 
toricians. But  there  was  no  need  of  dialect  in 
these  stories,  they  were  preserved  as  folk  lore 
and  not  as  samples  of  backwoods  talk.  It  is  the 
quaintness  of  the  tales  themselves  and  not  the 
way  in  which  they  were  told  that  warranted 
their  preservation. 

Dialect  stories  are  galore ;  there  is  hardly  room 
for  more  of  them,  even  though  the  Pennsylvania 
mountains  are  still  without  their  Charles  Egbert 
Craddock,  John  Fox,  Jr.,  or  Amelie  Rives. 
There  seems  to  be  a  valid  reason  for  writing  out 
these  legends.    They  treat  of  a  phase  of  life  that 


is  no  more,  in  a  region  which  has  been  laid 
waste,  that  can  never  be  restored.  They  are  a 
chapter  added  to  American  folk-lore,  especially 
as  relating  to  the  Indians.  It  is  interesting  to 
observe  that  some  of  them  undoubtedly  have 
a  common  origin  with  legends  across  the  sea. 
This  summer,  while  the  writer  was  on  a  driving 
trip  in  the  Blue  Mountains  of  Eastern  Pennsyl- 
vania, in  Berks,  Lehigh,  Schuylkill  and  Lebanon 
Counties,  he  found  legends  similar  to  ones  col- 
lected in  the  Black  Forest.  If  the  writer  had 
been  born  in  time  to  make  his  first  trip  through 
this  matchless  forest  in  1878,  or  even  in  1888, 
instead  of  when  he  did,  he  is  certain  that  he 
could  have  collected  many  more  and  far  more 
quaint  old  tales.  Think  of  the  pioneers  and  In- 
dians who  went  to  their  graves  with  their  stories 
unrecorded!  The  modest  graves  in  highland 
cemeteries  in  1898,  and  many  thereafter,  whose 
occupants  the  wTiter  was  not  fortunate  enough 
to  meet  bear  mute  testimony  to  this. 

Doubtless  some  one  could  have  done  this  work 
more  thoroughly  or  better,  it  deserved  more 
time,  but  the  truth  remains  that  no  one  else  has 
tried.  But  the  writer  can  say  that  he  has  writ- 
ten with  sympathy,  for  he  loved  the  people  whose 


curious  lives  he  sought  to  portray,  he  loved  the 
grand  forest  which  was  the  background,  and  the 
crowning  influence  in  their  existence.     He  has 
sought  to  show  what  was  beautiful,  what  was 
best,  although  if  the  result  may  have  been  paint- 
ed in  sombre  tones,  they  were  the  tones  of  truth. 
He  believes  in  the  reliability  of  his  sources  of 
information,  he  has  verified  wherever  possible, 
though  verification  where  there  is  no  document- 
ary evidence  is  fraught  with  difficulties.    He  be- 
lieves that  in  years  to  come  the  folk-lore  and 
traditions  of  inland  Pennsylvania,  such  as  set 
forth  in  his  several  volumes,  will  rank  with  the 
old  tales  of  Scotland,  Ireland,  France,  Germany 
and  Russia,  which  have  been  so  systematically 
collected  and  preserved.     This  historical  bi-pro- 
duct  has  a  right  to  live  on,  for  there  is  value  to 
it  just  as  was  the  case  with  gasolene,  so  long 
wasted  by  oil  manufacturers.     It  will  come  to 
its  own,  and  Central  and  Northern  Pennsylvania 
as  a  land  of  romance  will  rank  with  other  regions 
immortal  in  song  and  story.     To  those  who  ad- 
mire these  beautiful  regions,  which  surely  God 
loved  best,  the  bizarre  happenings  of  the  sturdy 
pioneers  and  the  doomed  Indians  must  always 
awaken  a  pang  of  interest. 


And  this  is  the  writer's  explanation,  or  apolo- 
gy, if  any  is  needed.  But  before  he  closes,  he 
Mashes  to  thank  press  and  public  for  their  con- 
tinued and  exceptional  kindnesses  towards  his 
former  volumes.  He  wishes  to  express  his  grati- 
tude to  the  old  men  and  women  who  took  the 
time  to  tell  him  the  legends.  They  have  all 
made  him  realize  how  many  very  kind  people 
there  are  in  the  world,  especially  in  Pennsyl- 
vania. 

HENRY  W.  SHOEMAKER. 
Riverside,  Connecticut,  June  8,  1914. 


I. 

JOHN  DECKER'S  ELK. 
(A  Black  Forest  Souvenir.) 

T  was  Springtime  on  Portage 
Branch.  The  elkwood  was  in 
bloom.  In  the  recesses  of  a 
deep  swamp,  along  the  edges 
of  which  Great  Blue  Herons 
nested  in  the  stag-topped  crests  of  the  tall  white 
pines,  three  Wapitis  or  Pennsylvania  Stags  were 
resting  themselves.  Their  leader  was  an  enor- 
mous bull,  long-bodied,  drab-colored,  strong  of 
antlers  to  which  the  velvet  still  hung  in  clusters 
like  the  maple-bud  rosettes,    whose    deep,    full 

21 


22  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

brown  eyes  betokened  unusual  intelligence  and 
patience.  By  his  side  stood  a  well-formed  cow, 
drab-colored,  with  eyes  like  those  of  her  lord 
and  master,  but  infinitely  deeper  and  kinder. 
Hidden  behind  her  was  a  very  robust  looking 
bull-calf,  unusually  large  and  vigorous  for  his 
age.  At  frequent  intervals  he  shook  his  little 
head  and  bristled  his  tiny  mane,  for  he  was  rest- 
less and  anxious  to  see  more  of  the  beautiful 
forest-world  into  which  he  had  ben  so  recently 
born. 

The  Springtime  soon  ushered  in  the  Summer, 
and  even  the  young  calf  relished  the  cool  retire- 
ment of  the  swamp,  so  silent  save  for  the  occa- 
sional croak  of  the  nesting  herons,  and  the  frogs. 
Then  the  nights  became  colder,  and  on  the  sum- 
mits of  the  nearby  but  unseen  mountains  wolves 
barked.  The  cricket  and  katydid  songs  sudden- 
ly diminished  from  full  choruses  to  occasional 
wandering  minstrels. 

The  first  snow  came,  and  the  elk  sought  the 
valleys,  browsed  and  huddled  together,  while 
the  fierce  winds  rattled  the  dead  tops  of  the 
pines.  Sometimes  through  the  openings  in  the 
branches  above  their  coats  were  dappled  by  cold 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  23 

starlight.  Then  came  heavy  raius,  warm  days, 
the  disappearance  of  the  snow.  The  skunk  cab- 
bage (juickly  appeared  along  the  edges  of  the 
swamp,  there  were  bird  songs  that  recalled  the 
previous  year.  The  elk  family  wandered  back 
to  higher  lands,  finding  themselves  again  in  the 
inaccessible  swamp  on  Portage  Branch. 

One  morning  the  stalwart  bull-calf  awoke  to 
find  a  newcomer  in  the  family  circle.  The  slim- 
mer neck,  narrower  head,  and  wilder,  more  ap- 
pealing eyes,  betokened  that  it  was  a  sister  who 
had  come  to  swell  their  numbers. 

With  the  blooming  of  the  elkwood  the  bull- 
calf  felt  a  tickling  sensation  on  the  crown  of 
his  head.  He  began  to  rub  his  skull  against  the 
brown  bark  of  the  original  pines  but  could  find 
no  surcease.  Soon  little  growths,  like  swellings 
appeared.  They  dripped  blood  at  the  slightest 
contact  with  other  substances.  As  the  season 
advanced,  and  the  little  sister  waxed  slimmer, 
and  more  lithe,  and  more  beautiful,  the  bumps 
on  the  bull-calf's  head  became  more  to  resemble 
miniature  horns.  The  bull-calf  was  very  proud 
of  his  embryo  antlers,  and  tossed  his  head,  and 
sometimes  tried  to  roar  like    his   sire    but    his 


24  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

voice  cracked  in  an  adolescent  squeak.  All 
through  the  Summer  the  elk  family  were  quies- 
cent. The  bull-calf  wondered  why  no  effort  was 
made  to  venture  far  from  the  deep,  and  insect 
teeming  swamp.  The  nights  became  colder. 
The  herons  flew  away.  The  katydid  and  cricket 
choruses  lessened,  bird  songs  were  no  more,  even 
the  wild  pigeons  had  ceased  their  cooing.  Only 
a  solitary  hylode  piped.  Wolves  barked  on  the 
unseen  heights.  Once  a  panther's  scream,  its 
love  song,  long,  weird  and  terrible,  reverberated 
the  entire  nocturnal  atmosphere.  On  grey  after- 
noons the  "dum,  dum,  dum,"  the  drumming  of 
the  ruffed  grouse  was  heard. 

One  morning,  when  the  sun  was  climbing  over 
the  mountain  tops,  and  the  maple  leaves  were 
particularly  golden,  a  strange  series  of  sounds 
came  to  the  ears  of  the  elk  family.  It  was  hang, 
bang,  hang,  and  to  the  minds  of  all  of  them  some 
instinct  said  that  it  was  the  report  of  the  weap- 
ons of  their  most  inexorable,  and  incomprehen- 
sible foe,  mankind.  All  that  day  and  that  night 
the  elk  family  huddled  more  closely  together  in 
the  depths  of  the  dismal  swamp.  The  bull-calf 
needed  no  one  to  tell  him  now  why  his  elders 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  25 

were  so  cautious.  While  he  had  never  seen  a 
man,  he  had  been  born  with  a  fear  of  an  arch 
and  horrible  enemy,  beside  which  panther,  wolf, 
or  rattlesnake  paled  into  insignificance.  But 
the  instinct  of  the  race  grew  stronger  every 
night.  The  voice  first  a  tremolo,  then  cracked 
and  unmusical,  grew  into  something  loud  and 
sonorous.  One  night  he  poured  forth  his  soul 
to  the  wilderness,  and  in  tones  of  which  he  was 
not  ashamed.  But  the  only  answer  was  the  echo 
from  the  unseen  mountains.  Other  nights  pro- 
duced no  other  results.  Again  the  instinct  which 
always  made  for  self-preservation,  told  him  that 
there  never  would  be  an  answer,  that  if  he  must 
continue  his  race  his  mate  must  be  his  little 
sister.  This  dulled  a  little  the  keenness  of  his 
joy  of  masculinity.  But  he  showed  it  in  no  other 
way  than  that  he  stopped  his  night-song.  His 
eyes  assumed  a  softer  expression,  he  became 
more  solicitous  for  the  comfort  of  his  mate-to- 
be,  edging  her  to  where  the  browse  was  choicest. 
The  winter  came  on  again.  With  bumps  on 
his  skull  now  fashioned  into  erect  broad  prongs, 
and  with  throat  full  and  mane  shaggy,  he  was 
almost  a  match  for  his  majestic  sire.    Snow  fell, 


26  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

the  elk  family  migrated  southward,  to  another 
hidden  swamp  in  the  lowlands.  There  they  were 
in  comfort  for  a  while.  One  morning  they  were 
roused  from  their  ruminations  by  a  savage  yelp- 
ing, a  sound  which  lacked  all  the  noble  melody 
of  wolfish  or  catlike  cries,  Man's  henchmen, 
dogs,  were  somewhere  in  the  forest.  It  was  too 
late  to  fly,  the  elk  family  must  wait,  perhaps  the 
enemies  would  pass  them  by.  But  it  was  not  to 
be.  There  came  an  awful  crackling  of  brush 
and  twigs,  and  soon  two  spotted,  hideous  looking 
hounds  with  flapping  ears  bounded  into  the 
centre  of  the  swamp. 

Quick  as  a  flash  the  old  bull  went  at  them  with 
lowered  antlers,  and  tossed  them  torn  and  bleed- 
ing among  the  hazels.  Barely  had  they  been 
dispatched,  when  a  man,  thickset,  bearded,  red- 
capped,  clad  in  furs,  bearing  something  long 
and  glistening,  appeared  at  the  verge  of  the 
swale.  He  was  Jim  Jacobs,  full-blooded  Seneca 
hunter,  the  terror  of  the  wapitis  of  Northern 
Pennsylvania. 

The  thought  flashed  through  the  bull-calf's 
mind  ''How  can  this  little  thing  hurt  us,  wipe 
out  our  race,  level  the  forest  covers,  change  the 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  27 

very  aspect  of  the  world,  how  dare  he!"  Quick 
as  he  could  think  the  diminutive  Indian  had  the 
long,  glistening  thing — his  rifle,  to  his  shoulder, 
and  aiming,  fired,  and  down  fell  the  mother  elk, 
choicest  of  the  quartette  from  a  pot  hunter's 
point  of  view.  Blood,  bright  red,  gushed  from  a 
hole  in  her  neck,  as  she  toppled  over  on  her 
side  into  the  snow.  The  old  bull-elk  gave  a  snort 
of  alarm  and  command,  and  trotted  away  fol- 
lowed by  his  two  offspring  who  trusted  him  im- 
plicitly.    There  was  no  second  shot. 

Evidently  Jacobs  was  satisfied  with  the  cow- 
elk,  for  when  far  to  the  north,  the  elk  trio 
paused  for  breath,  there  came  no  further  appre- 
hensions of  danger.  The  spisode  produced  a 
profound  impression  on  the  survivors.  They 
wintered  in  a  northern  swamp,  enduring  great 
hardships.  On  some  nights  they  were  almost 
buried  in  avalanches  of  snow.  There  was  browse 
enough,  if  they  could  but  reach  it.  The  elk  fam- 
ily became  very  lean  and  listless  as  the  long 
winter  waned.  The  bull-elk  hung  his  head,  he 
acted  like  some  old,  discouraged  man.  The 
younger  elks  longed  for  the  chance  to  move,  to 
wander,  but  the  will  of  their  sire  was  strong 


28  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

enough  to  hold  them  close  to  the  confines  of  the 
swamp.  Before  the  snow  was  all  gone,  even  be- 
fore the  mayflower  budded,  ominous  barking  of 
the  wolves  on  the  unseen  mountains,  disturbed 
the  peaceful  slumbers  of  the  elks.  The  night 
winds  rattled  the  dead  tops  of  the  ancient  white 
pines,  banshee-like  in  their  warnings. 

One  grey  morning,  while  the  elk  family  stood 
motionless,  a  strange  patter  of  feet  was  heard. 
It  could  not  be  man's  ally,  the  dogs,  there  was 
no  yelping  or  barking.  The  enemies,  whatever 
they  were,  were  approaching,  silently  save  for 
their  footfalls  on  the  rattling  leaves  and  snow 
patches.  Like  a  sudden  storm,  they  were  upon 
the  elks,  and  running  about  them  in  circles, 
great,  gaunt,  grey  creatures,  all  jaws — wolves. 
At  a  snarling  order  from  the  leader  the  ugly 
mob  singled  out  the  old  bull  elk  for  their  fury. 
Reaching  with  the  wide  jaws  for  his  gambrel 
joints,  they  bit  him  fiercely,  and  he  was  quickly 
rendered  crippled  and  helpless.  As  he  fell  to  his 
knees,  the  leader  of  the  wolves,  with  one  snap, 
tore  his  throat  open.  Meanwhile,  the  two 
younger  wapitis  had  a  chance  to  escape,  and 
they  made  good  use  of  it.    They  travelled  stead- 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  29 

ily  until  nightfall.  Self-preservation  dulled 
their  grief  for  their  sire.  When  they  stopped 
the  rustle  of  leaves  frightened  them,  sounding 
to  them  like  wolfish  footfalls. 

They  travelled  all  night,  aimlessly,  but  their 
direction  was  southerly.  They  rested  a  while 
in  a  secluded  swamp  at  dawn,  but  soon  their 
instinct  moved  them  on.  At  noon  they  came 
to  a  broad  stream  of  water,  the  Sinnemahoning ; 
they  were  making  ready  to  plunge  into  it,  and 
to  cross,  when  they  noticed  a  log  cabin,  with 
•creatures,  human  beings,  moving  about  it,  on  the 
opposite  shore.  The  elks  slunk  back  into  the 
tanglewood,  and  remained  motionless  until  all 
was  dark.  Then  for  the  first  time  in  their  lives, 
they  swam,  and  were  soon  on  the  other  side, 
landing  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  below  the 
log-cabin.  A  high  mountain  reared  its  precipi- 
tous cliffs  close  to  the  water's  edge.  The  refu- 
gees made  no  attempt  to  scale  it  or  to  reconnoi- 
tre until  next  morning,  when  their  mutual  de- 
cision was  to  find  sanctuary  among  its  pinnacles. 
They  wandered  in  an  easterly  direction  along 
its  base  through  a  tangle  of  wild  grapes,  water- 
birches  and  elders,  until  the^r  came  to  a  little 


30  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

draft,  where  now  a  mountain  torrent  gushed  out 
from  under  a  hemlock  canopy.  Lowering  their 
heads  they  wended  their  way  up  the  mountain, 
their  feet  displacing  and  rolling  downward  the 
smooth  stones  in  the  bed  of  the  stream.  They 
stopped  many  times  to  catch  their  breaths,  or 
to  pick  a  twig  off  some  deciduous  tree,  but  they 
were  on  the  bare,  bleak,  open  summit  in  time 
to  greet  the  afternoon  sun  before  it  reached  the 
level  of  the  Knobs,  the  highest  of  the  western 
peaks.  In  the  clear  afternoon  light  they  had 
an  admirable  opportunity  to  look  about  them. 
There  were  mountain  peaks,  mostly  bare,  cold 
and  grey  on  every  side,  but  in  the  sides  of  all 
of  them  were  furrows  or  hollows  heavily  tim- 
bered, mostly  with  hemlocks  running  almost  to 
the  summits.  These  looked  like  avenues  of 
escape.  Doubtless  one  of  these  would  lead  into 
some  sequestered  valley  or  plateau  where  they 
might  follow  out  their  destiny  for  a  while. 

The  young  elks  made  a  handsome  pair.  The 
young  bull  was  unusually  large  for  his  age,  he 
had  a  proud  head  and  eye,  there  was  an  almost 
Boman  curve  to  brow  and  nostrils.  His  winter 
coat  was  almost  an  olive  or  drab.     The  young 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  3! 

cow  had  a  fine  expression,  the  eyes  were  larger 
than  ever  through  that  perception  which  only 
suffering  gives.  Her  lines  were  symmetrical, 
she  was  short  coupled,  almost  like  a  western 
elk.  Her  color  was  somewhat  lighter  than  her 
mate.  The  two  hunted  beasts  gazed  at  the  limit- 
less expanse  for  a  while,  and  then  at  a  common 
impulse,  started  down  one  of  the  worn  water- 
courses with  moss-covered  banks  that  seemed 
like  a  path,  and  which  led  into  the  big  timber 
below. 

At  nightfall,  they  found  themselves  in  a  soggy 
upland  bog,  caused  by  many  windfalls  damming 
up  the  brook,  which  flowed  down  through  the 
draft.  It  was  probably  a  thousand  feet  above 
the  valley,  which  was  little  wider  than  the 
Moshannon  and  the  West  Branch  of  the  Sus- 
quehanna, which  had  their  confluence  in  it.  It 
was  a  good  place  to  tarry,  because  it  was  so 
hard  to  get  to;  few  outside  foes  would  ever  in- 
vade its  solitude.  Stretching  from  it  were  flats 
or  "benches,"  where  a  little  grass  was  apt  to 
grow,  and  where  beeches,  birches,  and  maples 
were  abundant.  But  the  prevailing  forest  was 
helnlock.     Here    the   y'oiing   elks    spemt    many 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 


happy  days.  Gradually  a  sense  of  security  re- 
turned. The  weather  became  warm,  and  though 
it  was  but  Springtime,  the  flow  of  the  mountain 
torrent  diminished.  There  was  plenty  to  eat, 
and  still  enough  dampness  left  to  sink  into  up 
to  the  fetlocks,  so  the  elks  were  contented  to 
remain  into  the  Summer.  Fresh  antlers  were 
coming  on  the  head  of  the  young  stag.  This 
time  two  points  appeared  on  each  horn,  and  the 
circumference  of  the  horns  was  greater;  they 
gave  their  wearer  a  bolder  appearance.  And  he 
carried  himself  as  befitted  his  added  dignity. 
Through  July  and  August,  the  weather  be- 
came intolerably  hot.  The  elks  climbed  to  the 
topmost  peaks  at  night  to  get  the  breezes,  which 
were  always  there.  They  were  alarmed  at  times 
to  notice  great  clouds  like  mist,  rising  from  the 
drafts ;  these  had  a  peculiar  smell  for  they  were 
smoke.  There  were,  too,  red  tongues  of  light, 
the  color  of  the  sunset — forest  fires.  One  night, 
especially  hot,  was  spent  on  a  rocky  point,  where 
their  rest  was  marred  by  smoke  rising  from  a 
hollow  behind  them.  They  remained  as  long 
as  they  could,  and  then  started  downwards  to- 
wards their  hidden  vale.     They  had  only  ^one 


IN  THE  FOREST 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  33 

a  few  hundred  yards  when  fresh  smoke  began 
coining  towards  them/  They  looked  back,  it  was 
also  trailing  after  them.  In  front  it  was  not  so 
dense,  so  they  plowed  ahead.  Several  hundred 
yards  more,  and  the  atmosphere  became  thick 
with  smoke  on  all  sides.  They  looked  back,  a 
tongue  of  flame  running  among  the  ferns  was 
coming  on  after  them.  They  struck  a  trot,  they 
surely  would  escape  it  if  they  ambled  faster, 
faster.  Their  speed  only  brought  them  to  a  point 
where  they  encountered  a  long  garland  of  flame, 
like  an  incoming  tide  on  a  beach,  advancing  to 
meet  them.  The  smoke  was  terrific.  But  they 
plunged  into  it.  There  was  nothing  else  to  do. 
The  smoke  became  thicker  and  blacker.  Neither 
one  could  see  the  other.  But  it  could  not  be 
always  like  this.  The  young  bull  plunged  ahead. 
He  heard  a  crackling.  Was  it  his  mate  or  the 
flames?  He  strained  his  big,  prominent  eyes  to 
see.  A  great  gulf  of  yellow  fire  blazed  up  out 
of  the  forest  depths,  revealing  the  tottering  and 
confused  form  of  his  beautiful  mate.  He  could 
not  succor  her.  He  was  half  stupefied  himself. 
He  saw  her  fall — into  the  flames — he  loped  for- 
ward, he  kept  going  somehow,  he  did  not  know 


34  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

what  he  was  doing — he  found  himself  at  the 
river  bank.  It  was  cool  there — there  was  no  fire 
on  the  opposite  shore. 

Dazed  he  stood  in  the  water  for  many  hours; 
then  he  resumed  his  trot — ^to  somewhere.  He 
must  have  travelled  for  several  days,  and  rested 
very  little  at  nights.  Sometimes  he  came  dan- 
gerously near  to  cleared  lands,  he  heard  dogs 
barking,  and  sounds  like  men's  voices.  His 
equipoise  was  returning.  He  browsed,  he  drank, 
he  slept  calmly.  He  was  resting  quietly  one 
afternoon  when  he  felt  a  blow  at  his  side;  he 
wheeled  about,  a  deer,  a  buck,  had  struck  him 
with  his  antlers,  on  which  hung  traces  of  the 
velvet.  Striking  at  him  with  his  short  but  stout 
horns,  the  elk  tore  a  gash  in  his  foe's  shoulder. 
Then  the  deer  took  to  heels  with  the  excited  elk 
after  him. 

They  raced  over  mountains,  through  lumber- 
men's slashings,  past  a  logging  camp,  where  a 
woman  sat  on  a  bench  peeling  potatoes  for  sup- 
per, into  virgin  forest  again,  out  into  a  vast  open 
field — at  the  far  edge  of  which  was  a  log-cabin 
with  blue  smoke  curling  out  of  the  big  stone 
chimney.     It  was  a  dangerous  place  to  pursue 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  36 

an  animosity,  but  both  animals  plunged  on.  They 
were  too  excited  to  hear  a  woman's  voice  shout- 
ing, "Look  at  the  deer,  John,  look  at  the  deer" ; 
too  wilted  to  see  a  sturdily  built  backwoodsman, 
with  a  black  chinbeard,  leave  his  woodpile  and 
run  to  the  cabin  for  his  gun.  The  deer  with  the 
angry  wapiti  at  his  heels  had  almost  reached  the 
timber  line  on  the  southern  border  of  the  big 
clearing,  when  a  loud  report  rang  out  on  the 
calm  September  air.  The  deer  disappeared  into 
the  dogwood  thicket,  and  escaped,  but  the  elk 
turned  a  complete  somersault,  and  fell  over  into 
the  stubble  stone  dead.  The  la^st  of  his  race  in 
Pennsylvania.  Now  the  story  must  sound  like 
every  other  hunting  narrative. 

"That's  no  deer,"  said  John  Decker,  the  in- 
trepid hunter  of  Decker  valley  ,as  he  stood  be- 
side the  bleeding,  steaming  carcass.  "Yet  it's 
just  twenty  years  since  the  last  elk  hereabouts 
was  killed  across  the  mountains  in  Treaster  Val- 
ley." Then  he  began  skinning  the  dead  animal. 
"It  must  have  been  chased  in  here  by  those  big 
forest  fires  in  Clearfield  County  and  the  Black 
Forest.  There  are  no  other  places  in  the  state 
where  the  'Pennsylvania  stag'  hangs  on." 


36  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

At  sundown  the  hide  was  nailed  on  the  barn- 
door to  cure,  the  carcass  had  been  cut  up  and 
was  in  the  cellar,  the  skull  and  horns  hung  on 
the  woodhouse,  among  divers  other  heads  of 
deer.  And  night  closed  in,  and  a  lonely  cricket 
started  to  chirp  somewhere  near  the  garden  gate. 
A  red  light  gleamed  from  the  cabin  window.  A 
wolf  on  the  knob  to  the  south  saw  it,  and  his 
keen  scent  told  him  of  the  recent  carnage ;  be- 
coming envious  of  the  cozy  glow  and  the  feed,  he 
set  up  a  melancholy  howl.  The  hunter's  dog 
"Rover,"  part  wolf  himself,  answered,  and  it 
was  almost  midnight  when  their  duet  ceased. 
Then  commenced  a  tap,  tap,  tap,  the  night-wind 
blowing  the  skull  of  the  dead  wapiti  against  the 
woodshed,  or  was  it  the  tramp,  tramp,  tramp  of 
the  soul  of  the  last  elk  bound  for  that  bourne 
where  all  is  life,  and  there  is  no  chase. 

Seven  and  thirty  years  have  passed  since  that 
clear  September  afternoon  when  John  Decker 
nailed  the  elk's  skull  to  his  woodshed  in  the  re- 
mote little  valley  bearing  his  name.  Terrible 
winters  have  come  and  gone,  and  the  blackened 
bones  and  faded  horns  have  been  decked  out  with 
snow,  and  ice,  and  frost.    Spring,  Summer  and 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  87 

Autumn  have  shed  their  radiance  on  the  melan- 
choly relics  but  the  black  sockets  of  the  eyes, 
bespeak  not  even  a  questioning.  But  at  night, 
Winter  or  Summer,  there  comes  a  mysterious 
night-wind  to  the  place,  and  a  soft  tap,  tap,  tap 
sways  the  mouldering  skull  nailed  there  against 
the  shed.  Is  it  the  soul  of  the  last  elk  still 
traveling  to  the  unknown  country,  where  he  will 
find  his  race  unsullied,  his  beautiful  mate  to 
greet  him.  Or  is  it  the  spirit  of  the  wilderness, 
blotted  out  by  man  never  to  return,  while  our 
race  lives,  whispering  of  better  and  freer  days, 
of  vast  distances  and  open  places,  of  beauty, 
justice,  and  truth,  which  were  banished  with 
that  last  elk  ?  Only  those  who  lived  in  Pennsyl- 
vania in  such  days  can  answer,  and  their  ranks 
are  growing  thin — they  are  following  the  last 
elk  to  the  land  of  light — where  there  is  no  chase. 
And  old  John  Decker,  his  chinbeard  now  snow 
white,  looking  proudly  at  his  crumbling  trophy, 
in  the  afternon  light  says,  *'It  was  just  about 
this  time  of  day  when  I  saw  him  in  the  stubble- 
field  over  yonder.  It  seems  only  yesterday. 
I  brought  him  down  with  one  shot. ' '  And  as  we 
drive  away,  we  almost  feel  as  if  we  were  living 


88 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 


in  those  grand  days,  and  in  our  mind's  eye,  we 
can  see  the  actors  in  the  pageant  of  the  times, 
Indians,  elks,  panthers,  wolves,  settlers,  all  going 
over  the  unseen  mountains. 


II. 


WHY  THE  SENEGAS  WOULD  NOT  EAT 
TROUT. 

(A  Story  of  the  Coudersport  Pike.) 

HE  Indians  had  finished  setting 
potatoes  on  the  Fenstermacker 
place  and  had  gathered  at  the 
old  farmhouse  for  supper.  It 
was  a  cold,  bleak  day,  although 
past  the  middle  part  of  May.  Very  few  blos- 
soms were  out,  as  the  season  on  the  mountain  top 
was  said  to  be  two  weeks  behind  that  in  the  val- 
leys. The  farm  occupied  a  bare  space  hewed  out 
of  the  ancient  forest  on  a  high  plateau,  with  the 
higher  mountains  of  the  Black  Forest  surround- 
ing it  on  all  sides.  Several  trout-fishermen  from 
Williarasport  were  spending  the  night  at  the 
farmhouse,  and  the  good  wife  had  kindly  con- 
sented to  cook  a  * '  mess ' '  of  their  fish  for  supper. 
They  were  small,  puny  trout  to  be  sure,  but  the 
city  fishermen  could  not  have  been  prouder  of 
them  had  they  all  been  over  a  foot  in  length. 

39 


40  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

"It  looks  like  harvest  time,"  remarked  old 
Daddy  Fenstermaker,  as  he  stared  about  at  the 
dozen  faces  assembled  at  the  long  table,  when  he 
had  finished  saying  ' '  Grace. ' ' 

The  six  Indians  were  a  stolid,  unimaginative 
looking  crew,  dregs  of  the  proud  race  of  the 
Senecas,  once  the  rulers  of  Northern  Pennsyl- 
vania. They  presented  an  unkempt  contrast  to 
the  short-haired  sportsmen  with  their  cropped 
mustaches,  their  spectacles  and  tweed  suits,  and 
even  to  old  man  Fenstermaker  himself.  For  the 
sake  of  politeness  the  fishermen  passed  the  big 
dish  containing  the  trout  to  the  Indians,  but  they 
declined  the  fish,  one  after  another.  The  fish- 
ermen thought  at  first  that  it  was  because  the 
Indians  feared  to  deprive  them  of  some  of  the 
results  of  their  outing,  and  urged  them  to  take 
some,  and  one  went  so  far  as  to  remark  jokingly 
that  Indians  doubtless  preferred  bigger  trout. 

The  situation  required  some  explanation,  so 
Daddy  Fenstermaker  spoke  up  and  said  that 
members  of  the  Seneca  tribe  never  ate  trout. 
"I  don't  know  why  it  is,"  he  continued,  "but  no 
Indian  who  ever  worked  for  me  would  touch  a 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  41 

trout ;  perhaps  some  one  here  can  tell  the  gentle- 
men the  reason?" 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  and  then  Billy 
Shongo,  the  brightest  looking  of  the  Indians  ven- 
tured to  say  that  his  people  were  a  queer  lot, 
that  if  he  was  doing  the  right  thing,  he  could 
not  be  even  engaged  in  farm  work.  ' '  One  of  our 
wise  men,  in  advising  us  to  keep  out  of  farming 
put  it  in  this  way,  'You  ask  me  to  plow  the 
ground !  Shall  I  take  a  knife  and  tear  my  moth- 
er's  bosom?  Then  when  I  die  she  will  not  take 
me  to  her  bosom  to  rest.  You  ask  me  to  grub 
out  stones !  Shall  I  dig  under  her  skin  for  bones  ? 
Then  when  I  die  I  cannot  enter  her  body  to  be 
born  again.  You  ask  me  to  cut  grass  and  make 
hay  and  sell  it,  and  be  rich  like  white  men !  But 
how  dare  I  cut  off  my  mother's  hair?'  " 

"That  reminds  me  of  Chief  Red  Jacket's  in- 
dignant reply  to  the  request  that  he  sell  land, 
'  Why  not  sell  the  sea,  the  air  and  the  sky '  ' '  said 
one  of  the  fishermen. 

'  *  We  have  violated  all  this  and  more,  but  very 
few  of  us  have  eaten  any  trout,"  Shongo  con- 
tinued impressively. 


42  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

All  of  us  including  the  fishermen  urged  the 
Seneca  to  tell  us  why  his  tribe  would  not  eat 
trout.  To  us  they  seemed  to  be  the  sweetest  and 
cleanest  of  all  fish.  "All  right,  I'll  tell  you,  but 
please  excuse  me  if  I  detain  you  too  long. ' ' 

"Go  on,  go  on,"  said  almost  everybody,  so 
Shongo  commenced  his  story. 

"It  was  long,  long  ago,  when  this  world  was 
new,  and  the  Senecas  were  the  chosen  people  of 
the  Great  Spirit.  In  those  days  the  Indians 
lived  along  the  banks  of  the  big  rivers  such  as 
the  Allegheny,  the  Genesee,  and  the  Susquehan- 
na. There  were  broad  flats  on  both  sides  of  the 
banks  where  they  raised  corn,  sweet  potatoes, 
muskmelons,  and  where  their  orchards  were  lo- 
cated. Some  Indians  owned  orchards  which  cov- 
ered over  a  thousand  acres,  all  planted  with  the 
best  apple,  peach,  and  plum  trees.  In  those 
days,  the  Indians  gave  all  their  attention  to 
farming,  and  gave  little  time  to  hunting.  They 
sometimes  shot  water  birds,  which  flew  along  the 
rivers,  or  sieved  with  their  bark  nets,  the  fine 
shad,  salmon,  and  other  river  fish.  They  never 
visited  the  mountain  streams  which  were  said  to 
be  alive  with  serpents,  aUies  of  the  evil  One. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  43 

"But  farming  brought  them  into  evil  ways. 
The  democracy  of  the  hunting  camps  could  not 
exist  among  them.  Some  became  very  rich  and 
powerful,  and  the  sons  and  daughters  of  these 
were  proud,  arrogant  and  cruel.  As  they  rose 
in  the  social  scale  they  forced  their  less  fortu- 
nate fellow  beings  who  did  the  real  work  into 
a  state  bordering  on  slavery.  The  wealthy  ones 
thought  only  of  pleasure.  They  desired  no  off- 
spring. They  invented  queer  dances,  copied 
from  the  antics  of  the  beasts  and  birds  of  the 
woods,  and  at  these  they  indulged  themselves  all 
night  long,  and  slept  by  day.  All  kinds  of  vice 
and  crime  thrived  among  these  idlers.  The  only 
religious  rites  they  cared  for  were  those  where 
human  sacrifices  were  made,  and  they  gloated, 
and  laughed  and  sang  lewd  songs  while  the  vic- 
tims were  being  tortured  horribly.  They  would 
not  speak  to  the  Indians  of  the  coarser  sort,  and 
boasted  loudly  about  'divine  right,'  a  'ruling 
class'  and  the  like. 

"Among  themselves  they  were  not  one  whit 
less  mean.  They  robbed  and  plundered  one  an- 
other when  they  could,  they  were  jealous  and 
envious  to  the  last  degree.    But  their  immorali- 


44  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

ties  were  the  worst  part  of  them.  First  of  all 
whenever  they  saw  a  beautiful  young  girl  in  the 
home  of  one  of  their  slaves,  they  stole  her  away, 
toyed  with  her  a  while,  and  when  they  saw  a 
prettier  or  fresher  one,  they  had  the  predecessor 
put  to  death  by  slow  torture.  Some  wicked  In- 
dians of  the  lower  classes  sold  their  daughters 
as  playthings  for  the  rich.  Then  they  got  to 
stealing  one-another 's  wives.  In  some  of  their 
orgies,  when  steeped  with  a  corn  liquor  which 
they  distilled,  they  exchanged  wives.  Love  was 
reduced  to  commercialism  and  lust,  and  all  the 
higher,  finer  impulses,  such  as  the  Great  Spirit 
willed  the  Senecas  to  possess  were  dead. 

"All  this  was  about  two  thousand  years  ago 
or  more.  I  am  glad  to  was  so  long  ago,  that  we 
can  almost  imagine  that  it  was  a  myth.  "We  say 
to  our  young  people  that  such  doings  were  exag- 
gerated, but  in  our  hearts  we  know  that  it  was 
all  only  too  true.  From  his  home  among  the 
clouds,  above  the  tallest  mountains,  the  Great 
Spirit  viewed  the  state  of  affairs  with  growing 
concern.  He  loved  the  Senecas  above  all  of  his 
other  creations,  and  it  grieved  him  to  see  their 
degeneracy.     He  breathed  his  soul  deeply  into 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  45 

some  wise  men  and  sent  them  among  the  rich 
as  teachers.  But  when  they  had  been  laughed 
to  scorn,  the  Master  Mind  realized  that  he  must 
adopt  more  drastic  measures. 

"The  rich  people  were  so  imbued  with  their 
own  importance  that  they  must  be  shocked  into 
a  sense  of  right.  He  sent  horrible  new  diseases 
among  them,  cutting  down  the  powerful,  the 
young,  and  beautiful.  The  dancing  groves  be- 
came burial  places.  There  were  so  many  dead  to 
lay  away.  But  with  the  nearness  of  the  death 
the  Indians  resolved  to  'have  a  good  time  while 
life  lasted'  and  plunged  deeper  into  foul  lasciv- 
iousness.  They  did  not  mind  death  if  they  could 
extract  the  last  ounce  of  pleasure  from  life  while 
it  lasted.  The  Great  Spirit  delayed  his  ven- 
geance. His  divine  pressure  produced  such 
slight  results  that  he  began  to  doubt  his  omnipo- 
tence. But  as  matters  were  steadily  growing 
worse,  he  launched  his  final  thunderbolt.  The 
idle  rich  had  planned  a  great  outdoor  dance  car- 
nival. Like  beasts  they  were  to  dance  all  the 
new  steps  scantily  clad,  and  then  feast  and 
drink  until  they  fell  to  the  earth  from  the  ex- 
cess of  pleasure. 


46  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

' '  A  level  plain,  shaded  by  tall,  hardwood  trees 
was  selected  as  the  place  for  the  orgy.  Once  it 
had  been  a  pasture  ground  for  buffaloes  and 
elks,  but  the  animals  had  moved  into  other  lo- 
calities and  it  had  become  overgrown  with  trees 
and  brush.  The  undergrowth  was  cut  away,  so 
that  the  vast  area  presented  a  park-like  appear- 
ance. On  the  edges  of  this  park,  where  the  old 
forest  was  dense,  hearths  and  pits  were  con- 
structed to  roast  the  whole  carcasses  of  animals, 
such  as  moose,  elks,  and  buffaloes.  Many  new 
dance  steps  were  invented  for  the  occasion,  and 
the  entertainment  began  with  human  sacrifices. 
Fifty  beautiful  young  girls  of  the  pooier  class 
were  tortured  to  death  to  arouse  the  jaded  in- 
stincts of  the  pleasure-seekers. 

**Then  the  dancing  began,  it  was  to  last  until 
hunger  overcame  the  revellers,  then  they  were 
to  gorge  themselves  into  insensibility  with  the 
elaborate  repast  provided.  The  Great  Spirit 
viewed  these  arrangements  with  disgust,  and 
made  ready  for  his  retribution.  The  ungrateful 
beings  had  perverted  his  lofty  purpose  in  plac- 
ing them  in  the  world,  they  had  made  his  image 
a  silly  mockery.     The  sun  was  shining  brightly 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  47 

when  the  exercises  commenced,  and  the  groans 
of  the  dying  girls  drowned  out  a  breeze  which 
had  sprung  up  among  the  feathery  tops  of  the 
tall  hardwoods. 

"Just  as  the  Indian  players  struck  up  the 
first  weird  notes  of  the  dance  music  the  clouds 
darkened,  and  there  were  several  deafening  peals 
of  thunder.  Some  few  of  the  more  delicately 
nurtured  were  for  dropping  out  of  the  dances, 
and  running  to  the  more  sheltered  woods  or 
caves,  but  the  leaders  of  the  entertainment  who 
believed  in  pleasure  at  any  cost  shouted  '  on  with 
the  dance,  it  will  be  a  new  sensation  to  dance 
with  the  water  dripping  down  our  backs.'  So 
the  dance  proceeded,  many  reasoning  out  that 
the  thunder  and  lightning  only  portended  a  pass- 
ing shower.  But  when  the  rain  fell,  the  Heavens 
literally  opened,  and  soon  the  level  plain  was 
indented  with  water  courses.  The  amazed  danc- 
ers strove  to  keep  their  feet,  but  the  heavy  down- 
pour literally  laid  them  low.  They  sprawled 
all  over  on  the  muddy  earth,  and  some  tried  to 
roll  to  places  of  safety.  Many  fell  into  the  wa- 
ter courses  and  were  swept  away  in  the  brown, 
grimy  torrents. 


48  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

"Those  who  rolled  over  the  ground  experi- 
enced a  peculiar  sensation.  They  felt  slimy  like 
fish,  their  hands  and  feet  congealed  to  the  shape 
of  fins,  great  gaping  gills  appeared  in  the  cor- 
ners of  their  throats.  They  felt  themselves  di- 
minishing in  size.  As  they  struck  the  water, 
they  felt  the  horrible  obsession  that  they  were 
fish.  Struggle  they  could  not,  was  it  all  a  dream, 
produced  by  superabundant  pleasure,  or  had 
they  been  seized  with  another  new  disease?  If 
so,  their  lofty  position  in  the  world's  social  scale 
would  soon  lessen  it  for  them ;  they  believed  that 
they  never  suffered  as  acutely  as  the  plainer  sort. 
But  on  this  occasion  they  ceased  to  be  the  petted 
darlings  of  infinity;  they  were  fish,  and  for  all 
time.  The  rain  or  whatever  it  was  continued  un- 
til the  last  member  of  the  wealthy  class  had  been 
washed  into  the  new-formed  streams  and  trans- 
formed into  fish. 

'  *  Then  the  sky  suddenly  became  light,  and  the 
muddy  water-courses  transparent  mountain 
brooks.  In  these  brooks  swam  myriads  of  hand- 
some, speckled  fish.  The  spots,  we  were  told, 
corresponded  with  the  number  of  sins  committed 
by  the  creatures  while  in  human  form.    We  were 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  49 

ordered  never  to  eat  a  spotted  fish,  as  it  would 
mean  accepting  another's  sins.  The  spotted  fish 
soon  accustomed  themselves  to  their  new  environ- 
ment, and  began  recognizing  old  friends.  Life 
might  have  been  quite  pleasant  in  the  cool, 
shaded  brooks,  only  they  found  that  when  they 
attempted  to  speak  water  ran  into  their  throats 
enough  to  choke  them.  Those  who  uttered  a 
single  word  perished  miserably,  and  came  to  the 
surface,  and  floated  with  white-stomachs  up- 
wards. They  polluted  the  habitations  of  the 
survivors,  so  few  attempted  to  open  their  mouths 
except  to  breathe  and  take  in  nourishment. 

''No  sooner  had  they  begun  to  adjust  them- 
selves to  this  situation  when  a  fresh  peril  ap- 
peared. From  under  logs  and  stobs  which  lay 
in  the  streams  issued  an  army  of  hideous,  brown 
serpents,  water  snakes.  They  emerged  so  sud- 
denly that  the  frightened  trout  had  not  time  to 
turn  around.  Great  numbers  were  partially 
swallowed,  horribly  bitten,  and  disgorged  by  the 
slimy  monsters.  Others  were  completely  eaten, 
distending  the  sides  of  their  devourers.  The 
fish  became  panic-stricken,  and  swam  hither  and 
thither,  some  even  throwing  themselves  on  the 


50  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

banks,  where  they  could  not  get  their  breaths, 
dying  there  and  becoming  food  for  small  ani- 
mals, flies  and  bugs. 

''The  most  sagacious  fish  managed  to  exist 
somehow.  But  they  knew  no  peace,  by  day  or 
night.  They  were  ever  on  the  alert  to  escape 
the  rapacious  water-snakes.  Even  their  spawn 
or  young  were  devoured  by  the  millions.  A  fresh 
enemy,  though  on  a  smaller  scale,  green  frogs, 
assailed  them  in  quarters  where  the  snakes  sel- 
dom visited.  These  creatures  were  particularly 
destructive  of  the  fry  or  small  fish,  as  well  as 
of  the  spawn.  Despite  their  lowly  position  the 
erstwhile  pleasure-seekers  now  felt  a  desire  to 
carry  on  their  race;  their  normal  instincts  re- 
turned with  their  metamorphosis.  Formerly 
they  had  ben  evolved  to  a  point  too  high  for 
their  own  good;  a  check  was  needed.  Perhaps 
their  punishment  was  only  temporary,  but  as 
time  wore  on  there  was  no  sign  that  there  would 
be  a  change.  And  worst  of  all,  not  a  single 
trout  died  a  natural  death.  As  they  grew  older 
and  weaker,  they  were  devoured  by  the  water 
snakes,  or  even  by  frogs,  lizards  or  eels,  passing 
away  mutilated  and  miserably. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  61 

"But  they  found  that  they  had  a  guardian 
angel,  the  Great  Blue  Heron.  This  bird  was  the 
sworn  enemy  of  the  water  snakes  and  frogs.  It 
hunted  them  with  the  same  avidity  as  the  snakes 
pursued  the  fish.  And  many  a  six  foot  snake 
slid  down  the  long  throats  of  the  herons.  And 
as  new  generations  of  fish  were  born  they  came 
to  regard  the  herons  as  their  divinities.  But  all 
the  same,  the  old,  weak,  fish  were  regularly  eaten 
by  the  serpents,  as  there  were  never  enough 
herons  to  diminish  the  number  of  snakes  appre- 
ciably. It  was  a  horrible  destiny,  but  it  was 
warranted  by  the  hideous  lives  which  the  spot- 
ted fish  had  lived  while  in  human  form.  But  a 
still  more  horrible  fate  was  in  store. 

"A  few  Indians  had  escaped  from  the  dread- 
ful flood.  They  were  mostly  of  the  baser  sort, 
who  had  shunned  agriculture,  and  lived  by  the 
chase,  and  on  berries  and  roots,  in  the  deep  for- 
ests. These  were  joined  by  a  few  survivors  of 
the  dance  orgy,  who  were  near  to  the  edges  of 
the  big  timber  when  the  storm  broke,  and  who 
rushed  pell-mell  into  the  forest  depths,  escaping 
being  swept  into  the  streams.  These  had  a  chance 
to  note  what  had  happened,  and  informed  the 


52  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

other  Indians  whom  they  later  met,  who  dwelt 
in  the  inmost  recesses  of  the  forests.  And  that 
was  why  when  they  assembled  at  the  banks  of 
the  streams,  which  were  swimming  full  of  speck- 
led trout,  they  refrained  from  catching  or  eat- 
ing them.  Their  wise  men  told  them  that  they 
would  become  responsible  for  the  sins  of  the 
fishes '  ancestors  of  they  touched  them.  And  they 
accepted  it  as  fact. 

"For  centuries  the  Senecas  never  tasted 
trout,  and  the  streams  in  Northern  Pennsylvania 
fairly  teemed  with  them.  They  were  polluted, 
tainted  food,  while  the  spots  or  sins  showed  out 
on  them.  But  the  redmen  loved  the  clean,  pure 
river  fish,  and  were  experts  in  netting  and  snar- 
ing them.  Also  they  kept  their  hands  off  farm- 
ing, it  had  been  the  cause  of  the  terrible  down- 
fall of  the  others.  But  all  was  different  when 
the  white  men  came.  They  did  not  stop  to  in- 
quire if  the  Indians  ate  trout  or  not.  They 
started  to  catch  the  'speckled  beauties'  with 
their  hands,  then  with  hooks  and  nets,  and  when 
they  could  not  get  them  fast  enough  these  ways, 
they  placed  dynamite  in  the  creeks.  The  fish, 
who  knew  the  story  of  their  unhappy  origin,  it 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  63 

was  somehow  handed  down  to  each  new  genera- 
tion, shrank  with  horror  from  being  hooked  and 
seined  by  white  beings,  in  form  though  not  in 
color,  as  they  themselves  had  been.  And  they 
even  had  to  gaze  upon  the  destruction  of  their 
divinities,  the  herons. 

' '  The  misguided  fishermen  attacked  the  heron- 
ries, calling  the  por  birds  'enemies  of  the  fish,' 
and  slaughtered  them  without  quarter.  The 
water  snakes  increased  in  numbers,  likewise  the 
frogs;  it  became  harder  for  the  trout  to  exist. 
Lumber  mills,  which  dumped  unwholesome  saw- 
dust into  the  streams,  sprang  up  on  all  sides, 
and  later  on,  tanneries  and  acid  factories  poured 
rank  poisons  into  every  water  course.  It  seemed 
as  if  the  final  fate  of  the  cursed  trout  was  to  be 
their  worst.  The  poisons  produced  loathsome 
sores  and  corruptions  on  their  spotted  sides,  they 
actually  rotted  to  death. 

"But  the  fish  laws  made  still  more  suffering 
for  them.  When  trout  less  than  six  inches  in 
length  were  caught,  the  law  compelled  the  white 
sportsmen  to  throw  them  back  into  the  water. 
But  the  touch  of  human  fingers  was  an  added 
curse.     It  produced  on  every  small    fish,    thus 


54  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

given  his  freedom,  cancers  and  foul  sores  worse 
than  the  poisons  had  created.  The  fish  sloughed 
away,  dying  hideously,  or  being  easily  captured 
by  the  snakes  in  their  weakened  condition. 
Man's  final  blight  was  more  than  they  had  ever 
dreamed  could  come  to  them.  Now,  you  know 
why  the  Senecas  will  never  eat  trout." 

It  was  pitchy  dark  in  the  little  dining  room 
when  Billy  Shongo  finished  his  narrative.  The 
supper  things  still  remained  on  the  table,  in 
front  of  all  of  us,  and  several  full  cups  of  coffee 
were  untasted.  The  good  wife  and  the  hired 
girl  sat  open-mouted  on  chairs,  too  much  inter- 
ested to  clear  off  the  table,  or  to  bring  in  the 
lamp.  The  fire  in  the  little  wood-stove  between 
the  windows  had  burned  down  to  a  grey  ash. 
The  room  had  become  uncomfortably  cold.  But 
we  had  heard  a  tragic  story,  and  were  well  re- 
compensed. 

"How  strange  it  is,"  said  one  of  the  prosper- 
ous looking  fishermen,  "that  we  are  out  here  as 
agents  to  wreak  a  further  punishment  on  those 
fish;  why  I  must  have  thrown  back  fifty  trout 
this  morning  for  being  undersize.  I  feel  like 
swearing  off  trout-fishing." 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  66 

His  companions  laughed,  and  then  everybody 
got  up  and  went  into  the  roomy  kitchen  adjoin- 
ing where  it  was  warmer.  The  Indians  went  out 
on  the  porch,  and  leaned  against  the  wooden  up- 
rights, their  instinct  seemed  to  always  take  them 
into  the  open.  We  could  hear  a  sheep-bell  tink- 
ling in  the  nearby  barnyard.  Down  in  the 
swamp,  the  ''peepers"  were  chorusing  shrilly. 
We  listened  to  them  awhile. 

Then  Billy  Shongo  spoke  again.  ' '  Even  those 
little  creatures  eat  lots  of  young  trout  at  cer- 
tain seasons  of  the  year.  I  don't  see  how  the 
fish  can  survive  with  so  many  enemies.  Man, 
instead  of  protecting  them,  is  making  it  harder 
for  them  to  exist  every  year.  But  I'm  thankful 
that  the  herons  are  to  be  protected  again.  It  is 
silly  to  kill  them  and  let  water  snakes  live.  But 
then  we  can  never  understand  the  white  man's 
ways. ' ' 


III. 


YOUNG  WOMAN'S  CREEK. 
(The  Story  of  a  Mountain  Stream.) 

ISTORY  differs  as  to  the  origin 
of  the  name  of  Young  Wo- 
man's Creek  which  rises  in  the 
Black  Forest,  emptying  into 
the  West  Branch  of  the  Sus- 
quehanna, several  miles  below  Renovo.  The  his- 
torical versions  are  contradictory,  and  not  well 
authenticated,  whereas  there  is  a  legendary  story 
which  has  every  mark  of  truth. 

It  was  related  by  an  aged  Swedenborgian 
named  Billy  Patterson,  who  was  one  of  the  pio- 
neers of  a  strange  colony  of  that  sect  which 
established  itself  over  forty  years  ago  on  the 
mountain  summits  near  the  headwaters  of 
Young  Woman's  Creek.  Most  of  the  colony  has 
been  dispersed  by  death  or  dearth  of  occupation, 
but  to  this  day  a  few  linger  on,  faithful  to  the 
lofty  motives  which  drew  them  to  the  remote 
spot.  Old  Thomas  Simcox,  pioneer  riverman  and 
56 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  57 

hunter  accompanied  the  writer  on  several  visits 
to  this  colony,  some  years  ago.  He  had  done 
some  prospecting  for  fire  clay  near  there  a  season 
or  two  previously,  boarding  with  one  of  the  Swe- 
denborgian  families. 

On  the  night  of  our  first  visit  we  found  that 
the  main  house  was  full  of  people  but  we  were  in- 
vited to  stay  at  a  shack,  or  log  cabin,  the  original 
home  of  the  family,  which  stood  in  the  corner  of 
the  lot.  Billy  Patterson,  oldest  member  of  the 
colony,  was  lodging  there.  We  found  him  sitting 
outside  the  door,  reading  a  New  Church  book  in 
the  waning  light  of  the  evening.  He  was  an  in- 
telligent looking  old  man,  past  seventy,  with  fine 
features,  a  clear,  light  blue  eye,  and  a  white 
beard  worn  very  full,  which  hung  below  his 
waist.  We  spoke  about  the  stream  whose  course 
we  had  followed  to  the  settlement,  and  its  pecu- 
liar name. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  how  it  got  that  name?" 
said  the  old  man,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  keen 
eyes. 

We  recited  briefly  to  him  the  well-known  ver- 
sions, but  he  shook  his  head  at  each  and  said 
that  they  were  not  correct,  that  an  old  Indian 


58  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

named  Jack  Berry  had  told  him  the  story  the 
first  year  that  he  had  moved  on  the  mountain, 
which  was  about  1868.  Berry  was  so  old  at  the 
time  that  he  could  remember  a  number  of  his 
torical  characters  very  well,  including  Mary 
Jemison,  the  White  "Woman  of  the  Genesee;  in 
fact,  she  had  mentioned  him  in  her  very  remark- 
able ''Narrative."  Berry  had  said  that  his 
father  was  Hi-Berry,  a  chief  for  whom  Berry's 
Mountain  in  Dauphin  County  was  named.  His 
story  of  Young  Woman's  Creek  dated  back  to 
1780,  at  a  time  when  the  history  of  the  upper 
reaches  of  the  West  Branch  are  wrapped  in  haze. 
The  Indians  were  still  numerous  and  belligerent, 
and  the  few  white  settlers  had  to  maintain  an 
eternal  vigilance. 

One  of  the  hardiest  of  pioneers  was  Mordecai 
Wolford,  of  Quaker  parentage,  originally  from 
Buffalo  Valley,  who  located  on  some  arable  land 
near  the  headwaters  of  Beech  Creek.  With  his 
family  in  1776  he  had  traveled  overland  from  his 
old  home  in  what  is  now  Union  County,  follow- 
ing the  West  Branch  to  the  present  site  of  Lock 
Haven,  and  from  thence  along  the  Bald  Eagle 
Creek  to  the  "Nest"  of  the  celebrated  chieftain 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  59 

Bald  Eagle,  which  was  on  the  right  bank  of  the 
stream  near  the  present  town  of  Milesburg. 

That  part  of  the  country  was  populous  until 
the  "Great  Runaway"  of  1778.  Already  large 
farms  were  pre-empted,  and  the  powerful  land- 
grabbers  from  Philadelphia  had  laid  claim  to 
what  was  left.  Wolford  was  of  an  independent 
turn  of  mind,  he  would  buy  land  from  no  white 
man.  He  would  purchase  or  conquer  it  from 
the  rightful  owners,  the  Indians,  or  not  at  all. 
Consequently,  he  had  to  go  to  the  table-land 
where  Beech  Creek  heads  before  he  could  settle 
unmolested.  He  found  an  Indian  clearing  with 
a  few  choice  apple  trees,  and  a  good  spring,  and 
aided  by  his  growing  sons  was  not  long  in  put- 
ting up  a  serviceable  log-cabin.  When  complet- 
ed, the  structure  resembled  more  a  fort  than  a 
dwelling,  but  that  was  natural  as  he  had 
modelled  it  after  Samuel  Horn's  farm  on  Curts' 
Run,  in  what  is  now  Clinton  County,  which  he 
had  seen  as  he  "trekked"  up  the  Susquehanna 
Valley,  He  had  reason  to  believe  that  the  In- 
dians were  friendly  to  him,  although  his  beau- 
tiful daughter,  Mary,  had  the  misfortune  to  have 
once  aroused  the  affections  of  the  mighty  Bald 


60  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

Eagle,  and  her  indifference  had  angered  the 
chieftain. 

In  his  heart  Mordecai  Wolford  had  no  love  for 
the  redskins,  so  he  could  not  conscientiously 
chide  his  daughter  for  her  attitude.  But  he 
trusted  that  the  larger  events  in  life  would  make 
the  warrior  forget  his  heart-sore.  But  Quaker- 
like he  miscalculated;  affairs  of  the  heart  are 
the  largest  things  in  life.  There  is  nothing  more 
important,  or  unforgettable.  The  Wolfords  lo- 
cated on  their  farm  early  in  1778,  and  in  July 
of  that  year  James  Q.  Brady,  son  of  Captain 
John  Brady,  a  young  man  who  had  been  atten- 
tive to  Mary,  and  of  whom  Bald  Eagle  had  been 
insanely  jealous,  was  killed  by  Indians  near 
Muncy  Tov/n.  The  slayers  were  led  presumably 
by  the  jealous  chief  himself.  The  news  of  the 
killing  did  not  reach  the  remote  clearing  on 
Beech  Creek  until  exactly  two  years  later,  when 
a  band  of  redmen  conveyed  it  in  a  rather  un- 
pleasant manner. 

In  a  year  the  Wolford  family  had  worked 
wonders  with  their  plantation.  It  actually 
looked  ts  well  as  many  farms  ''down  country,," 
with  its  neat  "Indian  fences" — surely  a  good 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  61 

living  would  be  made  off  it.  In  addition  to  put- 
ting out  rye  and  barley,  there  were  other  crops 
and  a  thriving  lot  of  livestock.  Hunting  and 
trapping  were  good,  and  in  the  two  winters,  the 
Wolford  family  captured  twenty  panthers,  two 
hundred  wolves,  fifty  black  bears,  two  brown 
bears,  and  an  almost  countless  number  of  small- 
er animals,  otters,  beavers,  wild  cats  and  such, 
all  attracted  to  the  neighborhood  by  the  livestock 
or  crops.  Most  of  these  hides  were  taken  in 
prime  condition,  and  were  sold  to  a  Jewish  trad- 
er, from  Berks  County,  who  journeyed  through 
Bald  Eagle  Valley  every  year. 

Thus  it  could  be  seen  that  the  outlook  for  the 
future  seemed  very  favorable.  The  news  of  the 
pioneer's  prosperity  was  sent  in  some  mysterious 
way  to  the  Indian,  Captain  David,  who  had  been 
the  original  owner  of  the  farm.  He  had  gone  off 
to  the  wars,  abandoning  the  place,  and  had  op- 
portunities without  number  to  settle  in  better 
localities  if  he  had  so  chosen.  But  he  preferred 
a  wandering  and  predatory  life  until  he  heard 
that  a  squatter  was  profiting  by  his  early  indus- 
try. Accompanied  by  three  Indian  comrades,  he 
started  on  an  expedition  from  the  headwaters 


62  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

of  the  Allegheny  to  recover  his  property.  On 
the  way  they  met  the  mother  of  Jack  Berry,  who 
was  then  a  boy  of  about  twelve  years  of  age  and 
induced  the  good  squaw  to  let  the  lad  go  with 
them  on  their  warlike  jaunt.  There  is  a  strong 
suspicion,  from  the  presence  of  Whistle-Town 
with  the  party,  that  the  real  motive  was  not  the 
recovery  of  Capt.  David's  farm. 

Whistle-Town  was  known  never  to  leave  Bald 
Eagle's  side,  he  was  his  shadow  in  fact,  unless 
he  went  on  some  punitive  expedition  for  his 
chief.  He  did  the  "dirty  work,"  being  willing 
to  stain  his  hands  with  murders,  which  would 
have  blackened  the  character  of  Bald  Eagle  had 
he  been  the  actual  perpetrator  of  them.  The 
party  travelled  quickly,  being  well  armed  and 
provisioned.  Within  a  week  after  starting,  they 
reached  Mordecai  Wolford's  farm,  finding  the 
industrious  frontiersman  in  his  hay  field,  taking 
in  a  goodly  crop.  In  an  adjoining  field  were  two 
mares  with  colts,  three  cows  with  calves,  and 
twenty-five  sheep,  all  animals  which  generally 
would  have  aroused  the  cupidity  of  Indians.  The 
four  redmen  emerged  from  the  forest,  saluting 
the  pioneer  and  his  sons  in  a  friendly  manner. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 


After  a  preliminary  talk,  in  which  the  death 
of  the  "Young  Captain"  James  Brady  was  men- 
tioned, Captain  David,  who  was  an  Indian  of 
venerable  appearance  and  a  veteran  of  Brad- 
dock  's  campaign,  asked  Wolf ord  if  he  was  aware 
whose  farm  he  was  occupying.  The  pioneer  re- 
plied that  he  had  found  the  place  deserted,  and 
fast  growing  up  with  brush,  that  he  felt  that  he 
was  the  lawful  owner  because  of  the  improve- 
ments he  had  made  on  it.  The  old  Indian  then 
asked  him  if  he  knew  the  party  who  had  cleared 
the  land  originally. 

' '  I  have  been  told, ' '  said  Wolf  ord,  ' '  that  Cap- 
tain David  cleared  it." 

"Right  you  are,"  said  the  Indian,  "and  I  am 
Captain  David.  Furthermore,  I  have  decided 
to  return  here  and  live." 

Wolford  looked  around  him,  neither  he  nor 
his  boys  were  armed,  with  a  false  sense  of  secur- 
ity they  had  left  their  rifles  in  the  cabin.  It  was 
four  armed  men  against  one  unarmed  man  and 
two  unarmed  boys.  A  little  business  talk  would 
be  better  than  a  fight.  But  he  did  not  like  the 
looks  of  his  visitors.     The  penetrating  simlight 


64  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

showed  him  that  one  of  them  who  keDt  in  the 
background  wore  a  wig  and  false  beard. 

"What  will  you  take  for  your  farm,"  said  the 
pioneer,  without  further  parley. 

"What  will  you  give?"  answered  Capt.  David. 

"Twenty  pounds,  all  the  money  I  have  got," 
said  Wolford. 

"That's  not  nearly  enough,"  replied  the  In- 
dian, with  a  sneer  in  his  voice,  he  was  fast  losing 
his  politeness. 

*  *  Twenty  pounds  and  those  horses  and  cattle, ' ' 
said  Wolford,  "that's  giving  you  good  mea- 
sure. ' ' 

' '  Give  me  one  hundred  pounds,  all  your  stock, 
guns,  ammunition,  furniture,  clothing,  every- 
thing, then  you  get  the  place,  and  for  not  a  far- 
thing less,"  said  the  Indian. 

"I'm  afraid  I  can't  meet  your  terms,  I 
couldn't  make  that  in  my  life,"  answered  Wol- 
ford. 

"Then  off  the  place  you  go,  now,"  said  the 
Indian,  edging  up  to  the  white  man. 

Just  then  a  rifle  shot  rang  out  on  the  calm, 
summer  air.  The  Indian  with  the  wig  and  false 
beard  fell  against  a  haystack,  badly  wounded. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  65 

Mary  Wolford,  the  pioneer's  beautiful  daughter, 
in  a  moment  of  hot-headedness  had  fired  from 
the  kitchen  door,  using  her  father's  weapon. 
This  was  the  signal  for  the  Indians '  attack.  The 
question  of  who  was  to  fire  first  had  been  settled 
just  as  they  wanted  it.  Three  shots  quickly  fired 
laid  Wolford  and  his  two  sons  low,  and  they  were 
scalped  in  the  ''twinkling  of  an  eye."  The  In- 
dians then  ran  to  the  cabin,  but  Mary  Wolford, 
her  mother  and  sister  were  nowhere  to  be  found. 
The  wily  redmen  separated,  and  continued  the 
chase.  A  quarter  of  a  mile  down  the  creek,  Loon 
Bird  found  Wolford 's  wife  and  little  girl,  and 
cut  their  throats  and  scalped  them. 

It  was  not  until  sundown  that  Mary  Wolford 
was  apprehended,  and  then  in  a  peculiar  way. 
When  she  fancied  that  her  pursuers  were  far 
from  the  cabin,  she  doubled  on  her  tracks  and 
returned.  She  hoped  that  her  mother  and  sister 
had  escaped  as  she  had  heard  no  more  shots,  and 
if  she  met  them  she  might  assist  them  in  their 
flight.  She  found  no  traces  of  them  and  made 
bold  to  visit  the  bodies  of  her  father  and 
brothers. 


66  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

The  masquerading  Indian,  whom  she  had  shot, 
noticed  her  approach  and  decided  to  play  'pos- 
sum, a  favorite  Indian  trick.  He  stretched  out 
stiff  against  the  haystack,  closed  his  eyes  and 
opened  his  mouth,  feigning  death.  The  bullet 
which  had  gone  through  his  neck,  had  somehow 
severed  no  artery,  and  was  not  mortal.  He  knew 
that  he  had  been  wounded  worse  in  other  battles 
and  recovered.  Mary  bit  her  thin,  white  lips 
when  she  viewed  the  mutilated  corpses  of  her 
loved  ones,  but  her  clear,  limestone-colored  eyes 
betrayed  no  traces  of  tears.  Her  alabaster  skin 
grew  whiter  than  of  yore,  and  she  clutched  her 
gunstock  nervously.  It  was  the  most  horrible 
sight  she  had  ever  witnessed,  or  dreamed  of  wit- 
nessing. Death  and  blood  seemed  so  out  of  place 
that  calm,  summer  evening,  with  the  smell  of 
the  newly  cut  grass  everywhere,  the  even-songs 
of  robins  still  afield.  Then  she  walked  back  to 
where  her  supposed  victim  lay.  She  looked  at 
him,  fancying  that  she  had  made  a  kill  that  sin- 
gle shot.  As  she  leaned  over  the  prostrate  form, 
strangely  overcome  by  the  hideous  countenance, 
the  crafty  savage  girded  himself  together  and 
sprang  to  his  feet,  seizing  the  girl  by  her  light, 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  67 

brown  hair.  But  Mary  was  a  tall,  wiry  girl, 
well  able  to  take  care  of  herself.  She  was  near- 
ly six  feet  tall,  and  grappled  with  the  Indian  in 
such  a  way  that  for  a  moment  it  looked  as  if  she 
might  be  the  captor  and  he  the  captive.  In  the 
scuffle  she  had  to  let  go  her  rifle,  but  she  also 
knocked  off  the  Indian 's  wig  and  false  beard. 

"Oh,  ho,  it's  you,  Whistle-Town,  you  scoun- 
drel, I  know  you,  I  can  see  that  your  chief.  Bald 
Eagle  is  back  of  all  this,"  she  shouted,  as  she 
wound  her  long  arms  about  the  ugly  wretch. 

The  redskin  was  resourceful  and  uttered  a 
piercing  war-whoop,  which  echoed  among  the 
pine-covered  hills.  Then  the  girl  feared  all  was 
lost.  Within  a  minute  Captain  David,  Loon 
Bird,  Black  Richard  and  little  Jack  Berry  ap- 
peared in  the  field.  They  had  not  been  far  away, 
as  they  reasoned  that  the  girl  would  return  to 
the  cabin.  They  laid  heavy  hands  on  her,  and 
bound  her  arms  behind  her  back  with  stout 
cords.  Then  they  put  a  wooden  gag  in  her 
mouth,  and  ordered  her  to  march  on  ahead  of 
them. 

It  was  now  that  she  began  to  feel  physical  and 
nervous  exhaustion,  but  it  looked  as  if  she  would 


68  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

have  to  march  all  night,  as  Indians  never  liked 
to  linger  close  to  the  scene  of  a  crime.  They 
feared  ghosts,  they  always  said.  Her  only 
chance  for  rest  would  be  if  Whistle-Town's 
wound  became  painful  or  started  to  bleed  again. 
Evidently  the  savages  were  prepared  for  such 
an  emergency  for  they  smeared  the  wound  with 
wolf-fat  from  a  pouch  which  Capt.  David  car- 
ried, and  wrapped  it  tightly  with  a  piece  of  dead 
Mordecai  Wolford's  shirt.  The  wounded  Indian 
liked  to  show  his  prowess  for  he  stepped  out  even 
livelier  than  the  rest.  The  only  laggard  was  the 
little  Indian  boy,  Jack  Berry,  who  could  hardly 
stand  the  long  tramp  and  frequently  the  older 
redskins  spoke  to  him  sharply  and  threatened 
him  with  death  unless  he  travelled  more  briskly. 
There  was  no  moon,  hence  progress  was  slow, 
though  the  Indians  knew  the  forest  trails,  and 
the  starlight  helped  considerably.  But  the  fol- 
lowing day  at  noon,  the  party  had  reached  the 
shores  of  the  Susquehanna,  coming  out  at  the 
mouth  of  Baker's  Run.  There,  many  signs  of  an 
Indian  encampment  were  to  be  seen.  There  were 
tent  poles,  racks  for  hanging  up  game,  the  ashes 
of  recent  fireSj^  bones  and  skulls  of  animals.    By 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  69 

the  water's  edge  a  pirogue  was  moored,  A  halt 
for  dinner,  the  first  meal  that  Mary  had  taken 
since  the  day  before  at  the  same  time,  was  made. 
Loon  Bird,  who  seemed  to  be  at  home  at  the  old 
camp,  went  to  the  run,  and  lifted  out  of  a  deep 
hole  several  haunches  of  venison,  which  he  had 
evidently  sunk  there  several  days  before.  He 
lit  a  fire,  a  surprisingly  small  one  for  the  size 
of  the  pieces  of  meat  to  be  cooked,  and  soon  be- 
gan roasting  the  venison,  which  gave  out  a  sav- 
ory odor  to  the  starving  captive.  When  the  meal 
had  been  prepared.  Loon  Bird,  who  seemed  to  be 
the  gentlest  of  the  savages,  removed  the  gag  from 
the  girl's  mouth,  and  led  her  to  a  cool  spring 
where  he  washed  her  face,  and  gave  her  a  gourd 
full  of  water  to  drink.  The  girl  felt  much  re- 
freshed, and  was  able  to  enjoy  the  feast.  In  fact, 
she  ate  more  than  the  Indians,  who  had  become 
strangely  glum  and  taciturn.  Doubtless,  they 
had  begun  to  realize  the  enormity  of  their  whole- 
sale murdering  of  the  day  previous,  and  how  if 
the  white  men  learned  of  it  they  would  be  given 
up  to  the  authorities  while  the  powerful  instiga- 
tor went  free. 


70  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

After  the  dinner,  Loon  Bird  was  put  on  as  sen- 
try while  the  other  Indians  slept  on  the  grass. 
Just  at  dark,  the  guard  awakened  them,  and  they 
all  went  to  the  river-bank,  and  got  into  the  pirogue. 
Evidently,  they  did  not  want  to  be  seen  crossing 
the  river.  Landed  safely  on  the  opposite  shore, 
they  tied  the  boat  to  the  projecting  root  of  a  red 
birch,  and  commenced  another  march, 

Mary  had  slept  a  little  during  the  afternoon, 
but  it  had  been  a  difficult  task  with  the  crude 
gag  in  her  mouth.  Every  time  she  shut  her  jaws 
hard  in  sleep,  she  woke  with  a  violent  start.  But 
in  the  main,  she  was  feeling  rested,  and  moved 
along  the  trail  with  ease.  They  travelled  all 
night  through  dark  forests  and  in  the  early 
morning  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  a  large 
stream,  which  was  to  go  down  to  history 
closely  associated  with  the  fair  captive,  Mary 
Wolford.  By  this  time  Whistle-Town  was 
feeling  much  improved,  though  his  neck  was 
still  kept  closely  bandaged.  After  another  nap, 
he  started  up  the  river  in  a  canoe,  accompanied 
by  Jack  Berry.  Mary  suspected  that  he  was 
going  to  inform  Bald  Eagle  of  the  captive's  ap- 
proach, or  to  tell  him  where  she  was  held  so  that 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  71 

he  might  visit  her.  At  any  rate,  she  was  left 
in  charge  of  Captain  David,  Black  Richard  and 
Loon  Bird,  but  the  last  named  as  her  especial 
keeper. 

The  day  after  Whistle-Town  had  departed,  the 
three  Indians  decided  to  go  on  a  buffalo  calf 
hunt,  but  they  disliked  the  idea  of  bundling  the 
girl  along  with  them.  Mary  could  overhear 
them  talking  about  it.  All  kinds  of  plans  were 
devised,  but  it  was  finally  decided  to  tie  her  to 
a  tree  until  they  would  return.  ' '  She  can  stand 
it  for  a  day  or  two, ' '  insisted  Captain  David. 

Loon  Bird  nodded  his  cheery  acquiescence, 
which  made  Mary  feel  badly  as  she  had  begun 
to  suspect  that  Indian  of  more  than  commonly 
humane  impulses.  Black  Richard  was  the  last 
to  give  in  to  the  idea.  "It's  death  for  us  all  if 
anything  should  happen  to  her  while  we  are 
away.  I  don't  feel  like  leaving  her,"  he  kept 
repeating  to  his  comrades. 

But  Captain  David  pointed  out  that  Whistle- 
Town  would  probably  not  be  back  for  a  week, 
and  it  would  be  very  tiresome  doing  nothing 
waiting  for  his  return.  Bright  and  early  in  the 
morning,  the  three  nimrods  were  ready  to  start. 


72  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

Their  destination,  as  near  as  Mary  could  make 
out,  was  to  be  Nittany  Valley,  where  many  buf- 
falo calves  were  pasturing.  When  Loon  Bird 
was  tying  her  to  a  large  gum-tree,  he  made  a 
sign  to  her  as  if  he  was  not  fastening  tightly, 
that  she  could  make  her  escape  if  she  would. 
She  made  no  motion  to  him  that  she  understood, 
lest  he  was  trying  to  trap  her: 

She  waited  patiently  until  evening,  and  then 
twisted  the  ropes,  finding  them  loose  and  easily 
managed.  By  this  time,  the  three  Indians  must 
have  been  ten  miles  away,  she  thought.  Just  as 
she  was  wrenching  herself  free,  something 
caused  her  to  look  around.  To  her  horror  and 
surprise.  Black  Richard  was  not  twenty  feet 
from  her.  It  appeared  that  after  the  Indians 
had  gone  about  five  miles,  this  Indian  had  be- 
come suspicious  of  Loon  Bird's  attitude,  and 
taxed  him  with  having  tied  Mary  so  that  she 
might  free  herself.  Loon  Bird  denied  the  charge 
indignantly,  but  he  was  seized  by  his  two  friends 
and  thrown  to  the  ground  and  bound  hand  and 
foot.  Captain  David  set  watch  over  him  while 
Black  Richard  retraced  his  way  to  ascertain  the 
truth  or  falsity  of  the  suspicion. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  73 

The  charge  was  only  too  true,  but  best  of  all  he 
had  arrived  at  the  very  nick  of  time.  When  he 
saw  the  girl  freeing  herself  he  dropped  his  rifle ; 
he  did  not  want  to  shoot,  but  must  capture  her 
alive  at  any  cost.  Though  her  legs  were  free, 
she  could  not  quite  untwist  the  ropes  which 
bound  her  pretty,  white  hands  behind  her  back. 
Perhaps  nervousness  prevented  a  dextrous  han- 
dling of  the  situation.  She  started  on  a  run,  all 
the  while  struggling  to  unbind  her  wrists,  with 
the  redman  in  hot  pursuit.  She  was  running  in 
the  direction  of  the  big  creek,  there  was  no 
bridge  or  ford,  and  the  water  near  the  conflu- 
ence with  the  river  was  quite  deep. 

There  had  been  heavy  rains  the  week  before. 
As  she  neared  the  brink  she  would  have  screamed 
woman-like  only  the  cruel  gag  was  still  in  her 
mouth.  There  was  no  time  to  lose.  Better  risk 
the  watery  depths  than  again  fall  into  the  hands 
of  the  redmen.  She  might  be  able  to  wade  across, 
and  once  on  the  other  shore  she  knew  that  she 
was  a  swifter  runner  than  her  foe.  Bravely  she 
plunged  in,  and  was  in  mid-stream  before  the 
Indian's  feet  were  wet.  He  saw  that  he  would 
lose  his  prize,  and  he  had  dropped  his  rifle  back 


74  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

in  the  brush,  when  he  had  first  come  upon  her. 
Picking  up  a  big  rock,  he  hurled  it  at  her,  strik- 
ing her  between  the  shoulder  blades.  She  was 
up  to  her  hips  in  the  swift  water,  but  the  force 
of  the  impact  made  her  lose  her  footing  on  the 
slippery  rock  bottom  and  she  fell  over  into  the 
current. 

The  Indian  realizing  what  he  had  done,  sprang 
after  her,  but  she  was  swept  away  in  the  gath- 
ering dusk  before  he  could  get  to  her.  He  spent 
the  entire  night  about  the  mouth  of  the  stream, 
but  the  slim,  fair  body  had  been  carried  on  into 
the  river.  With  a  gag  in  her  mouth,  the  poor 
girl  quickly  choked  with  water  and  she  could 
not  attempt  to  swim  with  her  arms  pinioned. 

The  next  morning,  Capt.  David,  having  be- 
come suspicious  owing  to  his  friend's  non-ap- 
pearance, visited  the  spot  where  the  girl  had 
been  left.  She  was  gone,  and  he  soon  located 
Black  Richard  pottering  about  at  the  mouth  of 
the  creek.  The  two  Indians  were  horrified  when 
they  realized  Loon  Bird's  duplicity,  and  hurried 
back  to  Rattlesnake  Run  where  they  had  left 
him,  and  cut  him  to  bits  with  their  tomahawks. 
Then  they  went  up  the  run,  and  travelled  until 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  75 

they  were  out  of  Bald  Eagle's  jurisdiction  in 
New  York  State, 

Great  was  Whistle-Town's  horror  when  he  re- 
turned to  ' '  Young  Woman 's  Creek ' '  to  find  girl 
and  Indians  missing.  It  is  said  that  Bald  Eagle 
had  the  faithful  Whistle-Town  executed,  and 
set  a  price  on  the  heads  of  the  other  Indians,  so 
great  was  his  chagrin  at  losing  his  coveted  prize, 
Mary  Wolford.  But  as  for  her,  fair  girl,  she 
floated,  a  corpse  with  many  vicissitudes  down 
the  river,  drifted,  nibbled  at  by  fish  and  eels, 
unseen,  until  at  length  she  was  washed  ashore 
at  the  foot  of  a  grass  grown  hill  near  Shamokin 
Town,  now  Sunbury.  On  that  hill  were  many 
more  or  less  erect  brownstone  slabs,  erected  in 
memory  of  the  dead,  for  it  was  the  pioneers' 
graveyard.  One  of  these  stones,  fresher  and 
stronger  than  the  rest  was  visited  weekly  by  a 
very  tiny  woman  with  sandy  hair,  freckles,  and 
bright,  blue  eyes.  It  was  Mary  Q.  Brady,  who 
went  there  to  place  Summer  flowers  on  the  last 
resting  place  of  her  beloved  son,  James,  slain  in 
1778,  by  the  jealous  fury  of  Chief  Bald  Eagle. 
One  morning,  she  noticed  something  long  and 
brown,  like  an  old  log,  half  submerged  in  the 


76  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

water,  close  to  shore.  She  climbed  down  the 
grassy  hill,  and  waded  out  to  where  the  object 
lay.  She  saw  something  like  a  very  white  hand ; 
she  seized  it  and  drew  a  dead  body  up  on  dry 
land.  She  laid  it  on  the  bank,  and  sat  down 
beside  it  and  studied  the  face.  All  at  once  the 
little  woman  gave  a  cry,  "My  God,  it's  Mary 
"Wolford's  corpse — is  she  gone  too,  well,  well,  she 
has  come  in  death  to  be  united  to  the  boy  she 
loved." 

That  afternoon  the  body  was  buried  close  to 
that  of  the  "Young  Captain  of  the  Susquehan- 
na" whom  in  life  she  had  loved  so  well.  And  as 
for  Bald  Eagle,  after  all  his  plots  and  murders, 
where  was  now  his  victory! 


IV. 

CONQUERING  FATE. 

(A  Story  of  the  Panther  Caves.) 

E  had  decided  to  stop  awhile  at 
the  Panther  Caves,  near  the 
mouth  of  Treaster  Valley.  It 
was  partly  because  there  was 
a  beautiful  greensward  along 
the  banks  of  Treaster  Brook,  where  we  could 
cook  dinner  and  feed  the  horses,  but  our  prin- 
cipal reason  was  to  look  at  and  photograph  the 
remarkable  cliffs  which  resembled  the  homes  of 
the  Arizona  cave  dwellers.  As  far  as  is  known 
no  human  beings  ever  resided  in  these  rocky 
caverns,  but  in  the  past  three-quarters  of  a  cen- 
tury more  than  a  score  of  Pennsylvania  lions 
had  been  slain  in  and  about  them. 

"We  were  gazing  at  their  serrated  facades 
when  two  gaunt  mountaineers  came  walking 
slowly  up  the  muddy  road,  their  hands  wedged 
in  the  narrow  change  pockets  in  their  overalls. 
Red-haired,   sandy   mustached,   unshaven,   they 

77 


78  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

presented  a  unique  appearance.  When  they  drew 
near  we  spoke  to  them  pleasantly,  and  they  re- 
plied in  their  peculiar  drawl,  and  we  soon  found 
them  intelligent  and  companionable  men.  They 
noted  our  interest  in  the  cave,  and  were  able  to 
give  us  much  interesting  information  on  the 
subject.  They  led  us  across  the  mucky  lowland 
where  the  brook  had  receded  after  the  Spring 
rains,  and  showed  us  the  great,  circular  tracks 
of  a  panther,  which  headed  in  the  direction  of 
one  of  the  caverns. 

"That  critter  lives  in  there  now,"  said  one  of 
the  mountaineers.  ' '  He 's  got  a  lot  of  nerve  with 
lumber  wagons  and  fishermen  passing  by  every 
day.  It  is  surprising  how  the  panthers  hang 
on  in  this  valley;  there  always  is  one  here,  I've 
been  followed  by  them  several  times,  and  none 
have  been  killed  since  Clem  Herlacher  went  in 
the  caves  and  carried  off  a  nest  of  cubs  about 
twenty  years  ago." 

But  we  were  principally  concerned  about  an 
Indian  legend  which  had  reached  its  dramatic 
climax  at  the  main  opening  of  the  caverns,  from 
which  a  stream  issues  in  the  spring  of  the  year 
and  after  particularly  heavy  rains.    This  water 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  79 

empties  into  Treaster  Brook.  Some  years  before, 
in  the  Black  Forest,  we  had  been  shown  the  re- 
mains of  an  Indian  clearing,  in  the  centre  of  a 
virgin  hemlock  forest,  not  far  from  the  head- 
waters of  the  main  branch  of  Slate  Run. 

Old  "Pappy"  Gast,  who  spent  much  time 
wandering  among  the  hills  and  dales  of  the 
Black  Forest  had  called  our  attention  to  it,  and 
related  the  legend  which  accompanied  every 
spot  where  Indians  had  been.  The  old  Indian 
couple  who  had  lived  there  up  to  about  the  mid- 
dle of  the  19th  century  were  ''Southerners," 
that  is  they  had  moved  there  from  some  of  the 
more  southerly  Pennsylvania  counties;  in  this 
case  they  were  from  Treaster  Valley,  in  Mifflin 
County.  Yet  the  native  stock  of  Indians  had 
mostly  vanished  from  that  region  before  they 
were  born,  so  tradition  had  it  there  that  they 
came  from  the  north.  It  was  almost  necessary 
to  visit  both  sections  to  obtain  the  entire  story, 
so  that  when  we  halted  our  team  by  the  Panther 
Caves,  and  noted  the  "lay  of  the  land"  as  it 
were,  the  entire  narrative  pieced  itself  together 
very  naturally. 


80  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

In  the  days  before  the  lumbermen  had  pene- 
trated the  Black  Forest,  but  after  the  native 
Indians  had  been  collected  at  the  Reservation 
in  the  vicinity  of  Cornplant's  Island  on  the  Al- 
legheny, an  aged  pair  of  redskins  appeared  mys- 
teriously on  Slate  Run,  and  started  to  build  a 
shanty.  The  ownership  of  this  land  was  in  the 
same  chaotic  state  which  had  enabled  the  vision- 
ary John  F.  Cowan  to  sell  tracts  he  did  not  own 
to  the  celebrated  Ole  Bull,  so  there  was  no  one  to 
order  the  newcomers  away.  They  selected  a 
spot  off  all  the  known  paths,  and  seemed  particu- 
larly anxious  not  to  meet  any  of  their  own  peo- 
ple. 

At  thai  time  numbers  of  ''Reservation"  In- 
dians ranged  over  the  Black  Forest,  hunting  and 
trapping,  and  a  few  of  them  worked  at  lumber- 
ing and  rafting  along  Pine  Creek  and  the  Sus- 
quehanna. Among  them  were  Tallchief  and 
his  son,  the  Jimmersons,  the  Shongos,  Half- 
Town,  Little  Beard,  Jack  Berry,  Old  Nicholas, 
and  a  host  of  others.  Most  of  these  belonged  to 
the  Seneca  tribe,  or  to  the  tribes  which  had  con- 
stituted the  "Smooct"  or  Six  Nations.  Smooct 
was  a  familiar  abbreviation  of  Seneca,  Mohawk, 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  81 

Oneida,  Onondaga,  Cayuga  and  Tuscarora,  who 
constituted  this  once  powerful  Indian  confedera- 
tion. 

The  aged  Indian  couple  from  the  south  went 
by  the  names  of  Honest  George  and  Old  Susie, — 
very  serviceable  names  in  any  locality  where 
their  exact  characteristics  were  unknown.  They 
said  that  they  were  of  the  Shawnee  tribe,  having 
been  born  at  Shawnee  Cabins,  a  noted  Indian 
settlement  not  far  from  the  present  town  of 
Schellsburg  in  Bedford  County,  that  after  mar- 
rying they  had  migrated  to  Treaster  Valley. 
But  they  were  silent  as  to  why  at  their  advanced 
time  of  life,  they  had  moved  into  the  colder  and 
more  isolated  Black  Forest.  Their  desire  to  be 
away  from  the  local  Indians  was  easily  ex- 
plained by  their  difference  in  tribal  affiliations. 
But  with  George  Gast,  afterwards  called  affec- 
tionately "Pappy,"  they  were  on  greater  terms 
of  intimacy.  To  him  they  confided  their  true 
history,  with  the  injunction  that  he  never  reveal 
it  to  a  soul  until  after  they  were  dead.  It  seems 
that  most  human  beings  must  have  a  confidante 
for  secrets,  and  Indians  were  no  exception  to 
this. 


82  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

In  the  old  days  when  the  Seneeas  were  su- 
preme they  indulged  in  many  beautiful  and  im- 
pressive religious  exercises  or  canticos,  in  fact 
their  religion  has  been  called  the  most  highly 
colored  in  the  world.  No  wonder  that  Ked 
Jacket  called  Christianity  dull.  Among  their 
religious  fetes  was  an  annual  sacrifice  to  the 
"Water  Spirit,  which  took  place  in  the  early  au- 
tumn at  the  historic  Falls  of  the  Genesee.  The 
most  beautiful  maiden  was  selected,  and  though 
death  was  the  price  paid,  there  was  a  continual 
scheming  and  wire  pulling  to  secure  the  coveted 
honor.  The  wise  men  made  the  selection,  and  all 
kinds  of  pressure  was  brought  to  bear  on  them. 
But  usually  the  most  beautiful  maiden  was 
chosen,  to  the  great  lamentations  of  the  rejected, 
their  friends  and  relatives.  The  chosen  sacrifice 
was  sent  over  the  falls  in  an  exquisitely  fash- 
ioned white  birch  canoe,  decked  with  autumn 
leaves,  fruits  and  flowers. 

It  was  said  that  on  many  occasions  lovers  of 
the  victims  begged  to  be  allowed  to  accompany 
them  on  the  death  errand,  and  when  their  wish 
was  refused,  hurled  themselves  over  the  preci- 
pice, and  the  two  bodies  would  be   washed  on 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  83 

shore  miles  below,  simultaneously.  A  lover,  dy- 
ing for  this  lofty  principle,  was  considered 
greatly  blessed. 

In  those  remote  days  Honest  George  was  none 
other  than  Wischalow,  or  The  Frightener,  a  noted 
Seneca  brave,  while  Old  Susie's  name  was  Ehel- 
ilda  or  Flowing  Spring,  one  of  the  fairest  of  In- 
dian maids.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a  power- 
ful warrior  named  Curveneheck,  or  Pine  Wood, 
famed  for  his  physical  strength  and  sagacity. 
From  the  time  she  was  a  small  child,  by  common 
consent,  it  was  allowed  that  when  she  reached 
the  age  of  sixteen  she  would  be  chosen  for  the 
supreme  honor  of  giving  up  her  life  to  the 
Water  Spirit.  She  admitted  to  her  relatives  and 
friends  that  she  was  destined  for  this  great 
privilege,  and  as  a  result  she  led  a  retired  and 
sheltered  life,  filled  with  prayers  of  thanksgiving 
to  the  Great  Spirit  who  had  given  her  the  gift 
of  grace  and  beauty  worthy  of  the  selection. 

But  even  in  the  Indian  days  there  were  some 
few  jealous  persons,  girls  who  declared  that 
they  were  just  as  fair  as  Ehelilda,  that  the  wise 
men  should  not  be  prejudiced  by  all  this  talk 
about  one  being  so  pre-eminently  fitted  for  the 


84  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

honor.  But  such  talk  came  to  naught  when  folks 
saw  Ehelilda.  Women  were  highly  regarded  by 
the  Senecas,  in  this  they  were  much  like  the  old 
Greeks ;  female  cleverness  and  beauty  is  not  more 
esteemed  by  the  white  races  today. 

As  time  went  by  the  opposition  grew  less,  and 
as  the  fair  maiden's  sixteenth  birthday  ap- 
proached, no  word  was  heard  except  favorable 
to  her  beauty  and  fitness.  Her  birthday  was 
properly  celebrated,  her  illustrious  father  giving 
a  garden  party  for  her,  which  was  attended  by 
all  the  noble  youths  and  maidens  who  resided 
the  entire  length  of  the  Genesee  River. 

Among  those  present  was  young  Wischalow, 
two  years  older  than  Ehelilda;  his  home  was 
near  the  source  of  the  Genesee,  and  it  was  a  case 
of  love  at  first  sight  with  both.  During  the 
lovely  moonlit  evening,  while  the  Indian  musi- 
cians played  weird  tunes  with  drums,  flageolets 
and  whistles,  interpolating  these  with  old  tribal 
songs  in  short,  melodic  phrases,  the  handsome 
young  couple  strolled  to  the  river  bank.  They 
seated  themselves  on  a  great,  fallen  elm,  and 
watched  the  moonlight  playing  on  the  eddying, 
rippling  water,  which  was  gaining  in  velocity 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  85 

for  its  leap  over  the  falls  but  a  hundred  yards 
further  on.  Wischalow  did  not  delay  long  in 
declaring  his  love,  to  which  the  maiden  gave  her 
assent  by  clasping  his  sinewy  hand.  Then  she 
pointed  to  the  cataract,  over  which  she  had  elect- 
ed to  sacrifice  herself  ever  since  she  was  a  small 
child. 

"Truly  do  I  love  you,"  she  said,  her  voice 
filled  with  emotion, '  *  but  my  destiny  is  to  go  over 
the  falls  in  honor  of  the  Water  Spirit,  the  source 
of  our  continual  life  and  prosperity." 

' '  I  grant  that  you  will  go  over  the  falls, ' '  said 
the  young  warrior.  Then  he  let  his  voice  die  to 
a  whisper  and  to  himself  he  repeated  ''but  at 
the  foot  of  the  cataract  I  will  meet  you  and  we 
will  he  together  for  life." 

The  sadness  in  Wischalow 's  voice  was  all  gone ; 
a  plan  had  come  to  him  to  permit  Ehelilda  to 
fulfill  her  mission  and  yet  become  his  wife.  Just 
before  they  returned  to  join  the  merrymakers, 
the  young  brave  clasped  the  slender  form  to  his 
breast,  whispering  in  her  pretty  ear:  "We  will 
meet  after  you  have  accepted  your  destiny." 

"That  will  be  in  Paradise,"  answered  Ehel- 
ilda. 


86  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

Wischalow  gave  these  words  a  different  inter- 
pretation than  the  girl  had  intended,  and  was 
well  content.  The  week  after  the  birthday  fes- 
tival the  wise  men  met,  and  on  the  first  ballot 
unanimously  chose  Ehelilda  for  the  honor  of 
going  over  the  falls.  In  previous  years  other 
candidates  received  a  complimentary  vote  and 
on  a  few  occasions  many  ballots  had  to  be  taken 
before  the  solons  could  arrive  at  a  choice.  This 
year  it  Mas  easy  as  Ehelilda  was  so  transcend- 
entally  lovely. 

The  time  for  the  sacrifice  was  always  in  the 
first  week  of  what  the  civilized  world  calls  Sep- 
tember. It  was  during  the  period  of  droughts, 
when  the  Water  Spirit  had  shown  his  spleen  in 
withholding  his  blessing.  There  were  many  beau- 
tiful autumn  flowers  at  that  time,  deep  purples 
and  yellows,  asters,  Joe  Pye  weed,  iron  weed, 
vervain,  fireweed,  golden-rod  and  tansy,  a  few 
maple  and  hickory  leaves  were  highly  tinged 
with  yellow.  There  was  much  early  fruit  on 
the  trees.  The  red  clusters  of  the  crab-apples 
were  particularly  noticeable.  It  was  one  of  na- 
ture 's  many  periods  of  lavish  beauty.  The  cere- 
mony was  called  for  the  late  afternoon  just  be- 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  87 

fore  the  sun  had  begun  to  set  behind  the  western 
hills.  The  banks  and  rock  promontories  were 
thronged  with  Indians  of  all  stations  and  ages. 

The  lovely  sacrifice  attended  by  her  proud 
father  met  the  wise  men  in  the  council  house  an 
hour  before  the  exercises  began.  There  she  was 
ushered  into  an  inner  chamber  where  her  gar- 
ments were  removed  and  burnt  by  twelve  maid- 
ens of  high  degree  who  clothed  her  in  a  flowing 
gown  woven  from  the  hair  of  snow  white  fawns. 
A  garland  of  Meadow  Sweet  was  placed  on  her 
broad  brow.  When  all  was  completed  the  maid- 
ens escorted  the  fair  victim  back  to  the  council 
of  wise  men  where  in  their  presence  she  bade  a 
smiling  farewell  to  her  father.  Then  the  native 
musicians  who  waited  outside  began  beating 
their  drums  and  shaking  their  rattles.  Heading 
the  procession  of  wise  men  and  maidens  Ehelilda 
emerged  from  the  council  house.  When  they 
saw  her  the  vast  throng  of  Indians  gave  out  their 
shout  of  joy  and  approval, — "Hoh,  hoh,  hoh!" 
repeated  many  times  like  a  college  yell. 

The  procession  headed  for  the  river  bank, 
where  the  graceful  canoe,  made  from  "paper" 
birch  was  anchored.     It    was    garlanded    with 


88  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

flowers,  corn  tassels  and  heads  of  wheat,  while 
its  interior  contained  a  couch  made  from  differ- 
ent kinds  of  fruit.  Old  Curvencheck,  the  fath- 
er, helped  her  into  the  craft  and  tied  her  fast 
with  coils  of  otter  hide.  Then  it  was  launched 
by  the  hand-maidens.  As  the  foaming  current 
caught  it  the  Indian  multitude  again  gave  vent 
to  their  call  of  triumph,  and  "Hoh,  hoh,  hoh, 
hoh,  hoh!"  resounded  above  the  roar  of  the  wa- 
terfall. All  was  over  in  an  instant,  the  canoe, 
with  its  smiling,  happy  victim  was  over  the  falls 
before  the  throng  could  realize  it.  Then  they 
silently  dispersed.  Many  regretted  to  see  the 
fair  girl  disappear,  never  to  return. 

At  some  distance  from  the  foot  of  the  water- 
fall another  canoe,  manned  by  a  stalwart  young 
brave  was  waiting  under  the  overhanging 
branches.  Back  of  these  overhanging  branches 
was  a  "lost"  or  "hidden"  river  of  a  kind  well 
known  by  the  Indians, — that  is  a  river  which  has 
an  underground  channel.  While  some  of  the 
Senecas  knew  of  the  existence  of  this  particular 
sink,  they  had  never  explored  it,  imagining  that 
it  led  to  the  underworld,  or  land  of  evil  spirits. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  89 

Wischalow  had  from  earliest  boyhood  listened 
to  the  old  soothsayers  and  witches,  beings  with- 
out the  pale  of  the  Seneca  religion,  but  not  want- 
ing in  exact  knowledge  of  the  phenomena  of 
nature.  From  several  of  these  he  had  learned 
the  story  of  the  sinking  river,  how  it  wound  like 
a  labyrinth  for  six  hundred  miles  through  cav- 
erns lit  by  crevices  which  penetrated  to  the  outer 
world,  and  hung  with  marvellous,  transparent 
stalactites.  At  the  end  of  the  six  hundred  miles 
the  stream  issued  out  of  a  chasm  in  the  rocky 
face  of  a  mountain,  into  a  beautiful  valley  where 
the  paw  paws  and  persimmons  grew,  and  where 
the  redbud  bloomed  in  purple  profusion  in  mid- 
May.  Wischalow,  who  was  a  wonderful  swim- 
mer, had  full  confidence  in  his  powers.  From 
his  hidden  point  of  vantage  he  could  see  the 
white  canoe  with  its  precious  freight  come  over 
the  falls,  and  disappear  in  the  froth  and  foam 
below.  He  calculated  the  number  of  moments  it 
would  take  for  it  to  reach  the  deadwater,  and 
come  to  the  surface  again.  He  reasoned  that 
Ehelilda  could  not  be  dead,  unless  she  should 
die  of  fright  or  collide  with  a  submerged  rock. 


90  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

When  the  right  amount  of  time  had  elapsed 
he  dived  from  the  bow  of  his  canoe,  and  swam 
under  water  to  the  spot  where  he  calculated  the 
sacrificial  canoe  must  be.  And  he  judged  wisely, 
for  on  one  of  his  outward  strokes  his  fingers 
touched  the  side  of  the  precious  craft.  Under 
the  water  as  he  was,  he  almost  gave  a  shout  of 
joy.  He  reached  out  further  and  seized  the 
canoe,  and  drew  it  back  after  him  to  his  hidden 
retreat  under  the  overhanging  birches.  Then 
he  got  his  first  look  at  Ehelilda  since  her  terrible 
ordeal.  Her  pink  face  was  deadly  white,  her 
long  lashes  closed  over  sleeping  eyes.  He  quick- 
ly felt  her  hand,  it  was  as  cold  as  the  mountain 
water  she  had  just  been  through.  But  Wischa- 
low  could  not  believe  life  extinct.  He  cut  the 
cords  which  bound  her  and  lifted  her  tenderly 
into  his  own  boat.  Then  he  fastened  the  white 
canoe  behind  his  own  by  the  same  cords.  The 
luscious  fruit  would  be  useful  on  the  long  jour- 
ney which  faced  them,  although  he  had  provis- 
ioned his  own  craft  before  beginning  his  vigil. 
With  a  few  deft  strokes  of  the  paddle  he  was  in 
the  hidden  river,  travelling  under  crystal  arches, 
with  his  unconscious  companion. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  91 

When  he  had  caught  the  proper  current,  he 
allowed  the  canoes  to  drift,  and  began  rubbing 
the  fair  girl 's  hands  and  blowing  his  breath  into 
her  mouth.  By  the  mysterious  light  from  the 
crevices  above  he  could  see  color  coming  back  to 
her  lips  and  cheeks,  her  hands  were  growing  less 
clammy.  All  night  long  they  drifted,  with  the 
young  warrior  breathing  back  life  into  his  be- 
loved. When  the  rays  of  daylight  again  filtered 
through  the  rocky  roof  he  was  overjoyed  to  see 
her  opening  her  eyes.  When  she  saw  who  was 
bending  over  she  said  faintly,  but  distinctly, 
"How  sweet  it  is  to  wake  in  Paradise." 

Then  Wischalow  kissed  her  and  when  she  was 
strong  enough  he  assured  her  that  she  was  not 
dead,  that  instead  she  was  in  an  earthly  Para- 
dise, where  love  would  last  as  long  as  life.  Ehel- 
ilda  soon  understood  it  all  and  was  overjoyed  at 
the  way  in  which  her  lover  had  conquered  fate. 

The  underground  journey  proved  a  happy  one 
in  the  extreme;  it  was  so  ecstatic  that  they  did 
not  attempt  to  count  the  time.  One  clear  after- 
noon they  saw  bright  sunlight  ahead,  and  short- 
ly afterwards  the  canoe  floated  out  into  a  pond 
of  clear  water  with  tall,  red  lilies  along  its  banks, 


92  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

with  beaver  dams  at  one  end  of  it,  at  the  foot  of 
a  great,  castellated  cliff.  By  the  pool  was  a 
greensward,  shaded  by  huge  hemlock  trees, 
through  whose  interspaces  could  be  seen  rolling 
hills,  lavender  in  the  light  of  coming  evening. 

Wischalow  let  the  canoes  drift  to  shore,  then 
he  leaped  out  shouting,  * '  Hoh,  hoh,  hoh, ' '  he  was 
so  happy !  A  nice  fire  was  built  and  dried  meat 
was  soon  cooking  over  it.  A  lean-to  for  the 
night  was  pitched  and  the  next  morning  work 
on  a  lodge  house  began.  The  few  native  Indians 
received  them  in  a  kindly  manner,  only  the  pan- 
thers who  lived  in  the  cliff  disputed  their  pos- 
session. And  there  the  Indian  couple  lived  hap- 
pily for  over  sixty  years. 

Meanwhile  the  native  Indians  had  died  out 
or  moved  away,  and  white  settlers  encroached 
to  within  a  few  miles  of  the  cozy  camp  at  the 
foot  of  the  great  cliffs.  The  panthers  became 
more  elusive,  and  less  apt  to  question  their 
rights,  the  elk  were  killed  off,  and  the  deer  and 
beavers  became  very  scarce.  It  was  then  that 
the  Indian  couple  began  thinking  of  the  land  of 
their  youth,  far  to  the  north  in  the  Genesee 
country.     They  could  not    return    against    the 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  93 

swift  current  in  the  hidden  river,  but  they  de- 
cided to  walk  to  the  north  until  they  found  a 
secluded  spot,  and  there  erect  another  home. 
When  death  overtook  them,  they  would  be  near 
childhood  scenes.  It  is  a  strange  desire  with 
men  and  animals  to  want  to  die  near  the  youth- 
ful home  but  it  is  not  so  strange  when  we  realize 
that  the  youthful  scenes  are  usually  places  where 
we  loved  and  first  learned  happiness. 

The  pilgrimage  was  made  in  the  beautiful 
summertime.  The  aged  couple  supported  them- 
selves by  selling  a  goodly  store  of  baskets,  cups, 
beads  and  trinkets,  and  were  well  treated  in  the 
different  counties  traversed.  At  length  they 
entered  the  majestic  Black  Forest,  where  Wisch- 
alow  had  hunted  the  elk,  the  black  bear,  and  the 
panther  in  his  youth,  and  which  as  yet  was  un- 
visited  by  the  rapacious  and  wasteful  Pennsyl- 
vania lumbermen.  This  would  be  the  ideal  re- 
gion for  another  home.  A  site  was  selected  with 
good  water  and  a  commanding  view,  a  lean-to 
was  thrown  up  the  first  night,  work  on  a  lodge 
house  of  logs  commenced  the  next  morning.  It 
was  taken  as  a  good  sign  that  a  panther  screamed 
about  the  lean-to  that  first  night,  just  as  one  had 


94  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

done  at  the  Panther  Caves  in  Treaster  Valley 
sixty  years  before. 

The  final  days  of  the  old  couple  were  very 
happy.  They  made  several  secret  visits  to  the 
Genesee  country,  but  did  not  see  a  single  face 
who  could  have  betrayed  them. 

**We  will  see  them  all  in  Paradise,"  said 
Wischalow,  ' '  they  will  be  surprised  that  you  are 
getting  there  so  long  after  their  arrival." 

"I  am  in  no  hurry  to  meet  them,"  replied 
Ehelilda.  "I  have  found  Paradise  in  this  old 
world  with  you." 

And  Wischalow  while  he  mused  over  the 
strange  events  of  his  long  life  concluded  that  it 
was  worth  while  to  have  tried  to  conquer  fate. 

* '  Everything  is  possible  to  mankind, ' '  he  often 
said,  "if  we  would  but  try.  I  am  one  of  those 
who  has  tried,  and  see  my  gain.  Then  he  would 
point  to  his  wife,  working  at  her  household  du- 
ties outside  the  cabin  door. 

When  death  finally  visited  Wischalow  and 
Ehelilda  both  were  estimated  to  be  over  ninety 
years  of  age.  They  died  two  weeks  apart,  and 
after  they  were  both  laid  to  rest,  side  by  side, 
near  the  Coudersport  Pike,  Senecas  came  to  their 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 


95 


graves  and  sprinkled  them  with  forget-me-nots. 
Perhaps  these  tribesmen  guessed  their  story,  but 
were  too  good  to  interfere. 


V. 

IN  THE  RAFTERS. 
(A  Tale  of  the  Mountaineers'  Conscience.) 

BOUT  thirty  years  ago,  lumber- 
ing operations  at  Leary's  Sum- 
mit commenced  in  earnest. 
The  railroad,  M'hich  completely 
bisected  the  Black  Forest  was 
completed,  opening  up  a  vast  territory,  covered 
with  virgin  timber.  At  the  juncture  of  the  main 
line  and  the  road  which  ran  through  the  forest 
an  enormous  saw-mill,  which  ran  night  and  day, 
was  erected.  A  new  population  was  brought  into 
the  town,  representing  the  best  and  worst  ele- 
ments of  humanity.  There  were  the  owners  and 
superintendents  of  the  saw-mills,  stave  mills, 
planing  mills,  lath  mills,  veneer  works,  acid  fac- 
tories and  such,  with  their  families;  the  opera- 
tors, the  shop-keepers,  the  serving  class  and  the 
saloon-keepers,  which  last  named  gentry  catered 
to  a  long  suppressed  instinct  of  the  woods- 
people. 
96 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  97 

With  a  street  lined  with  liquor  stores,  there 
was  temptation  a-plenty  for  the  mountaineers 
who  were  drawn  to  the  town  by  its  bright  lights 
and  brisk  development.  The  facility  of  obtain- 
ing work  and  the  high  wages  sowed  a  disinclina- 
tion to  labor  in  many,  while  the  abundance  of 
liquor  seemed  the  only  goal  worth  striving  for. 
Many  men  who  had  lived  by  sporadic  logging 
and  trapping,  and  saw  little  real  money,  now 
worked  for  a  week  or  two  in  the  big  bark-peeling 
camps  or  saw-mills,  and  then  went  on  long  sprees 
with  their  rolls  of  easily  earned  "greenbacks." 
A  spirit  of  recklessness  was  engendered,  and  the 
general  moral  tone  of  the  mountaineers  lowered 
decidedly  after  a  year  or  two  of  prosperity. 

Out  on  Powder  Hill,  about  three  miles  back 
of  the  lumber  town,  lived  Abel  Sweek  and  his 
wife.  Early  in  life  this  man  had  given  promise 
of  being  an  industrious  worker,  but  he  grew  to 
spending  most  of  his  time  in  the  saloons,  and 
neglected  his  chances  for  legitimate  employment. 
His  wife,  instead  of  trying  to  raise  him,  sunk  to 
his  level,  and  often  imbibed  too  freely.  The 
couple  had  one  child,  a  pretty,  curly-haired  little 
boy  of  four  years,  to  whom  they  were  apparently 


98  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

devoted.  It  was  a  lonely  place  for  a  child  to  be 
brought  up,  out  on  the  bleak  hill,  in  the  shack  of 
hemlock  boards,  unplaned,  unpainted,  and  lop- 
sided. The  yard  and  garden  fences  were  built 
of  slabs,  from  the  mill.  Huge  hemlock  stumps 
were  everywhere,  even  in  the  garden  three  or 
four,  on  which  the  morning  glories  twined, 
reared  their  blackened  heads. 

Formerly,  this  had  been  a  great  hunting  coun- 
try, but  with  the  removal  of  the  timber  a  person 
could  travel  for  hours  and  scarcely  see  a  chip- 
munk. Despite  this  apparent  state  of  affairs, 
Sweek  always  liked  to  regale  the  saloon  idlers 
with  stories  of  animals  which  he  claimed  he  was 
seeing  or  hearing  around  his  home.  One  day 
he  would  come  into  town  and  tell  about  a  wild- 
cat which  was  carrying  off  his  chickens,  another 
time  it  was  a  bear  that  scared  his  wife  while  she 
was  coming  from  the  spring,  another  time  he  had 
heard  a  panther  scream  on  the  top  of  the  hill, 
in  the  rear  of  the  house.  Besides  these,  he  was 
always  tracking  deer  and  seeing  a  large  number 
of  grouse  or  "pheasants."  Though  no  one  else 
saw  or  heard  anything,  few  doubted  the  stories, 
as  Sweek 's  record  for  untruthfulness   had   not 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  99 

been  established.  In  most  communities  a  man  is 
believed  until  he  is  proved  a  falsifier.  In  this 
case,  untruthful  though  he  might  be,  the  yarns 
proved  an  agreeable  break  in  the  monotonous 
existence  of  the  dwellers  in  the  lumber  town. 

One  night,  just  prior  to  Christmas,  the  Sweek 
shanty  was  burned  to  the  ground.  The  chimney 
had  become  overheated  and  ignited  the  wall,  and 
in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  not  even  the  foundations 
remained.  The  family  escaped  with  their  cloth- 
ing. The  next  morning  Sweek  went  to  Leary's 
Summit  to  secure  sympathy.  A  subscription 
paper  was  passed  about  in  the  bar-rooms,  but  the 
beneficiary  drank  up  and  treated  away  most  of 
the  fund  before  he  started  homeward,  along  the 
cross-ties.  It  was  a  cold  evening  when  he  reach- 
ed the  ruins,  and  naturally  his  wife  and  little 
boy  had  departed.  When  he  started  for  town, 
they  wended  their  way  across  the  hills  to  the 
home  of  the  woman's  mother.  This  old  lady, 
Mrs.  Maria  Ehrenwhoof,  lived  in  a  cozy  little 
cottage  at  the  edge  of  the  original  forest.  The 
timber  had  been  cut  away  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  road,  there  was  not  a  green  tree  in  that 
direction  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach.     But 


100  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

back  of  the  cottage,  the  smooth,  grey  boles  of  the 
white  hemlocks  rose  in  level  rows  sixty  feet  to 
the  lowest  branches.  The  canopy  of  foliage  was 
so  dense  that  the  sun  could  not  penetrate.  The 
patch  where  the  cottage  stood  had  been  cleared 
thirty-five  years  before,  consequently  the  hem- 
locks along  the  edge  of  the  forest  had  become 
accustomed  to  the  light,  the  frail  trees  had  died 
and  be6n  cut  away  years  before.  In  that  way 
the  fringe  of  brown,  dead  timber,  so  conspicu- 
ous along  the  boundaries  of  a  hemlock  forest  was 
missing.  The  little  yard  and  garden  were  filled 
with  fruit  trees,  while  a  Virginia  creeper  and 
a  grape-vine  spread  over  the  entire  front  side  of 
the  neat  log-cabin,  the  chinks  in  which  were  care- 
fully plastered.  Old  ''Mammy"  Ehrenwhoof 
lived  there  with  her  unmarried  son,  Henwood, 
and  the  pair  naturally  welcomed  the  Sweek  fam- 
ily into  their  midst  after  the  unhappy  holocaust. 
Everything  might  have  run  smoothly  had  not 
Sweek  continued  his  drinking,  and  he  quarrelled 
repeatedly  with  his  brother-in-law.  Henwood 
Ehrenwhoof  was  a  sober,  industrious  fellow,  a 
track-walker  on  the  Black  Forest  Railway. 
After  one  particularly  bitter  row,  he  gathered 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  101 

together  his  belongings  and  moved  into  a  desert- 
ed hunter's  shanty  which  stood  about  a  mile 
further  in  the  forest.  Sweek  then  proceeded  to 
make  his  mother-in-law's  life  miserable.  The  old 
lady  was  over  seventy,  and  not  very  strong,  and 
her  son-in-law's  insolence,  together  with  her 
daughter's  shiftlessness,  told  heavily  on  her 
health.  She  took  her  bed  about  the  first  of  Feb- 
ruary, and  passed  away  late  in  March. 

Before  the  funeral,  Henwood  blamed  the 
Sweeks  for  the  old  lady 's  death,  saying  that  they 
had  worried  her  into  her  grave.  In  reply,  the 
son  was  told  that  he  should  have  taken  his 
mother  with  him  when  he  moved  away.  But  the 
old  woman  would  never  have  gone,  she  loved  her 
little  home  where  she  had  lived  most  of  her  mar- 
ried life  too  much.  There  was  another  quarrel 
over  the  funeral  expenses,  and  Sweek  went  on  a 
terrible  spree  as  a  result  of  his  inability  to  pay 
his  share.  He  lay  in  bed  for  over  a  week,  finally 
getting  broken  in  health  and  nerves.  He  was 
now  unable  to  work,  even  if  he  were  willing  to 
do  so ;  he  owed  a  store  bill,  a  doctor  bill,  as  well 
as  a  part  of  his  mother-in-law's  funeral  expenses. 
It  was  enough  to  worry  anyone,  let  alone  an  in- 


102  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

ebriated,  half-crazy  backwoodsman.  As  time 
progressed  he  began  to  fancy  that  he  was  being 
neglected  by  everybody,  that  the  public  should 
help  him  in  his  indigent  condition. 

Springtime  came  along,  and  the  peach  and 
plum  trees  in  the  tiny  yard  and  garden  were  in 
bloom.  The  little  home  was  a  bower  of  loveliness 
if  only  the  inmates  could  appreciate  it.  But 
they  pursued  their  sullen,  ungrateful  way,  al- 
ways complaining  at  the  world,  which  they  con- 
sidered owed  them  a  living  in  idleness. 

Then,  all  at  once,  the  town  of  Leary  's  Summit 
was  startled  by  the  report  that  the  couple 's  little 
son  Sammy  had  been  lost  or  kidnapped.  The 
parents  had  gone  to  effect  a  reconciliation  with 
Kenwood  Ehrenwhoof,  finding  him  not  at  home. 
When  they  returned,  the  little  boy  whom  they 
had  left  playing  in  the  yard,  was  nowhere  to  be 
found.  The  couple  were  frantic  with  grief. 
While  the  husband  hurried  to  town  for  financial 
aid,  and  liquor  to  steady  his  nerves,  the  wife 
rolled  about  on  the  floor,  surrounded  by  sympa- 
thizing mountain  women. 

' '  Their  hearts  are  in  the  right  place  after  all, ' ' 
was  the  general  verdict  of  the  public,  ' '  else  they 
v.ould  not  take  on  so  over  the  loss  of  their  child. ' ' 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  103 

The  big  saw-mill  granted  a  half -holiday  for  its 
employees  to  scour  the  woods.  The  managers  and 
superintendents  of  the  different  plants  sub- 
scribed liberally  for  the  comfort  of  the  sorrowing 
parents.  Letters  were  written  to  the  newspapers 
at  Smethport,  Coudersport  and  Renovo,  some 
public-spirited  lumbermen  offered  a  cash  reward 
for  the  child's  body,  dead  or  alive.  All  kinds  of 
solutions  for  the  mystery  were  offered.  Gypsies 
had  been  seen  traveling  along  the  Portage  Road, 
perhaps  they  had  fled  with  the  child  to  New 
York  State — the  haven  of  every  escaping  scala- 
wag. The  little  one  might  have  wandered  off 
into  the  woods,  fallen  into  a  brook  and  been 
drowned.  Perhaps  one  of  those  fierce  panthers 
or  bears  which  Sweek  saw  so  often  had  devoured 
the  boy.  Suspicion  even  fell  on  Henwood  Ehr- 
enwhoof ;  he  might  have  kidnapped  the  child  for 
revenge. 

The  Sweeks  became  the  centre  of  interest,  and 
in  one  way  or  another  managed  to  keep  it  up  for 
nearly  a  month.  These  were  very  profitable 
days,  it  was  like  finding  money,  Mrs.  Sweek 
would  say.  But  despite  all  the  donations  and 
"loans,"  and  sympathy  and  counsel,  the  couple 


104  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

looked  like  a  pair  of  hunted  beasts.  They  lost 
flesh,  they  could  not  eat,  their  bloodshot  eyes 
popped  from  their  heads,  "They  are  dying  of 
grief,  we  must  find  their  boy,"  echoed  from  one 
mountaineer  to  another.  The  rich  and  pros- 
perous made  the  long  journey  out  to  the  lonely 
cabin,  nearly  every  one  dropping  a  five  dollar 
bill  into  the  woman's  hands  before  taking  leave. 
There  were  also  curiosity  seekers,  who  paid  for 
the  privilege  of  offering  condolences. 

But  the  strangest  part  of  all  was  that  the 
county  authorities  took  no  official  cognizance  of 
the  child's  disappearance.  Of  course,  thirty 
j^ears  ago  police  departments  in  mountainous 
county  seats  were  not  in  a  high  degree  of  effi- 
ciency, and  news  and  exact  information  travelled 
slowly.  The  general  feeling  was  that  the  little 
boy  would  ' '  turn  up ; "  hence,  the  wheels  of  offi- 
cialdom were  slow  of  motion.  There  was  a  sur- 
prisingly small  amount  of  space  devoted  to  the 
affair  in  the  county  newspapers.  Grover  Cleve- 
land and  Blaine  were  of  more  news  interest  than 
a  vanished  mountain  boy. 

But  in  the  home  of  the  Sweeks  there  was  sen- 
sation enough  to  atone  for  the  seeming  indiffer- 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  105 

ence  of  the  world.  Their  nights  were  rendered 
intolerable  by  the  patter  of  childish  feet  on  the 
floor  of  the  attic  above  where  they  slept.  There 
was  a  constant  cracking  and  creaking  of  the 
attic  rafters.  At  times,  the  entire  house  seemed 
to  sway  and  rock.  The  wind  whistled  with  an 
almost  human  wail.  Doors  of  closets  opened  and 
shut  noisily,  furniture  overturned  itself,  lights 
were  blown  out,  sleep  became  out  of  the  question, 
the  approach  of  night  was  terrifying. 

There  were  many  persons  who  would  gladly 
have  slept  in  the  cabin  with  them,  and  eased 
their  nightly  misery,  had  they  but  dared  to  con- 
fide the  awful  story  to  them.  But  instead  they 
had  to  remain  silent  and  endure  it  as  long  as 
they  could.  For  up  in  the  garret,  in  a  soap-box 
resting  across  two  of  the  narrow  rafters  lay  the 
body  of  their  little  boy. 

The  child  had  always  seemed  in  the  way,  it 
required  money  to  keep  him,  which  might  have 
been  spent  for  his  parents'  pleasures.  He  re- 
quired care  when  his  parents  were  not  physically 
able  to  look  after  him,  when  overcome  by  inso- 
briety. One  night,  when  the  couple  were  lying 
fully  dressed  on  their  bed,  well  under  the  influ- 


106  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

ence  of  cheap  whiskey,  the  horrible  idea  came  to 
them  of  putting  the  child  out  of  the  way.  Sweek 
suggested  it,  and  the  wife  readily  assented. 

They  reasoned  that  if  they  caused  the  little 
boy  to  disappear  mysteriously,  it  would  arouse 
the  sympathies  of  the  wealthy  people  at  Leary's 
Summit,  they  would  be  given  lots  of  money,  and 
when  the  donations  ceased  they  would  be  the 
better  off  because  there  would  only  be  the  two 
of  them.  The  people  at  the  town  had  about 
reached  the  limit  of  their  generosity  as  matters 
stood;  this  new  episode  would  arouse  them 
afresh.  There  was  no  telling  to  what  ends  their 
liberality  might  reach.  The  story  could  be  given 
out  that  the  child  had  vanished  from  the  yard 
while  they  were  away  seeking  a  reconciliation 
with  Hen  wood  Ehrenwhoof ;  after  a  while,  they 
could  place  the  body  in  the  forest,  and  it  would 
look  as  if  the  child  had  become  lost  and  perished 
from  starvation. 

Meanwhile,  all  kinds  of  plausible  causes  for 
its  absence  could  be  spread  abroad.  '  Chuckling 
over  their  evil  intentions,  the  couple  staggered 
to  their  feet,  and  went  over  to  the  crude  wooden 
trestle  which  served  as  the  child's  bed.    The  lit- 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  107 

tie  fellow  was  sound  asleep,  and  the  father,  with 
his  huge,  bony  fingers,  strangled  him  to  death 
where  he  lay.  Then  the  mother  dressed  the 
child,  and  doubled  the  body  into  a  soap-box 
which  had  served  as  a  receptacle  for  stove-wood. 
The  woman  laid  some  boards  loosely  over  the 
top.  Then  the  couple  started  up  the  rickety 
stairs  to  the  attic ;  Sweek  went  ahead  carrjdng  a 
small  kerosene  lamp.  At  the  next  to  the  top 
step  he  slipped,  dropping  the  lamp.  Luckily, 
as  it  fell,  it  went  out,  preventing  an  explosion 
which  might  have  incinerated  the  murderers, 
victim,  house  and  all.  Mrs.  Sweek  dropped  the 
box  containing  the  little  corpse,  and  it  rolled  out 
in  a  heap  on  the  floor  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

Sweek  swore  long  and  loudly,  ordering  his 
wife  to  go  down  and  get  another  lamp.  She  pro- 
tested that  she  had  broken  the  other  lamp  the 
day  before;  in  reality  she  was  afraid.  Sweek 
was  just  as  scared  as  she,  so  he  compromised  by 
lighting  numerous  matches  which  he  carried  in 
his  trousers'  pockets.  By  this  uncertain  light 
the  woman  was  enabled  to  pick  up  the  child's 
body  and  put  in  the  box,  and  the  trip  to  the 
lonely  garret  was  resumed. 


108  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

Then  the  dog  outside  set  up  a  piteous  howling. 
In  some  way,  he  had  become  aware  that  some- 
thing was  amiss,  Sweek  cursed  the  dog,  vowing 
to  "settle  it,"  if  it  did  not  quiet  down  by  the 
time  he  finished  hiding  away  his  child's  body. 
The  dog  did  not  grow  quiet,  and  to  the  tune  of 
this  awful  uproar,  the  box  was  placed  in  a  re- 
mote corner  of  the  rafters,  just  where  they 
joined  the  eaves.  Other  boxes  were  moved  over 
against  it. 

"When  the  first  excitement  is  over,"  said 
Sweek,  wiping  the  sweat  from  his  brow  with  his 
elbow,  "we'll  take  the  body  out  into  the  woods, 
over  by  the  old  wolf  caves  would  be  a  good 
place. ' ' 

Then  he  went  down-stairs,  followed  by  his 
wife,  to  attend  to  the  barking  dog.  Picking  up 
a  heavy  cane  which  his  late  mother-in-law  had 
used  in  her  latter  days,  he  opened  the  kitchen 
door.  The  infuriated  dog  sprang  at  him,  but  he 
beat  it  off.  Angered  beyond  measure,  he  pur- 
sued the  brute  to  its  kennel,  where  it  cowered 
with  fright.  He  ran  back  to  the  house,  finding 
his  wife  drinking  whiskey  by  the  light  of  one 
feeble  tallow  candle.     He  took  his  revolver  out 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  109 

of  the  cupboard  and  returned  to  the  dog  house, 
firing  without  aim,  in  the  darkness,  into  where 
the  dog  lay.  There  were  some  hideous  howls  of 
pain  then  all  was  still. 

Sweek  went  indoors  and  with  his  wife,  drank 
whiskey  until  daylight,  when  the  supply  was 
exhausted.  By  that  time  the  two  plotters  had 
patched  together  their  story,  so  that  it  had  not  a 
single  weak  point,  apparently.  Sweek  went  out 
and  buried  the  dead  dog  in  the  garden.  Then 
he  shaved  himself  with  an  unsteady  hand,  tidied 
his  clothes  as  best  he  could,  and  went  for  a  walk 
into  the  forest  accompanied  by  his  wife.  This 
was  to  give  actual  color  to  their  story  that  the 
child  had  disappeared  while  they  were  seeking 
a  reconciliation  with  Henwood  Ehrenwhoof.  On 
their  stroll,  they  passed  Henwood 's  cabin,  but 
they  knew  he  was  not  at  home,  as  he  generally 
slept  in  the  tool-house  by  day,  near  the  section 
which  he  patrolled  after  the  evening  "combina- 
tion" train  pulled  in. 

That  night  Sweek  visited  Leary's  Summit. 
The  effect  of  his  story  of  the  missing  child  was 
all  that  he  anticipated  and  more.  He  was  the 
hero  of  the  hour ;  people  of  prosaic  life  must 


110  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

have  excitement.  A  lost  child  story  was  more 
blood-curdling  than  a  panther  or  bear  story. 

When  he  reached  home  at  day-break,  he  was 
accompanied  by  a  dozen  volunteer  hunters  for 
the  child,  among  them,  Henwood  Ehrenwhoof. 
He  noticed  that  his  wife  was  looking  badly, 
caused  either  by  a  lack  of  alcohol  or  the  excite- 
ment of  the  last  twenty-four  hours.  When  she 
could  speak  to  him  alone  she  whispered  that 
she  had  heard  the  child  running  about  the  attic 
all  night.  "You  are  drunk  or  crazy,"  said  the 
husband  with  an  ugly  leer.  "Wait  and  hear 
for  yourself,  Abel,"  was  all  the  woman  would 
say  in  reply. 

Night  fell,  and  what  a  terrible  night  it  was. 
All  manner  of  horrid  noises,  and  most  hideous 
of  all,  the  child's  footsteps  pattering  about  on 
the  badly  swung  attic  floor.  Many  times  the 
guilty  souls  were  convinced  that  the  child  was 
not  dead,  or  had  come  to  life  again.  This 
thought  was  pleasing  to  them;  it  soothed  them 
temporarily.  But  neither  had  the  courage  to 
go  to  the  garret  and  see  for  themselves. 

They  were  burned  and  stung  and  torn  by  con- 
science, something  they  never  dreamed  they  pos- 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  111 

sessed.  The  next  night  was  worse,  the  night 
following  still  more  terrible.  In  fact,  every 
night  added  to  the  torture.  Finally,  Sweek  sug- 
gested to  his  wife  that  the  time  had  come  to 
take  the  body  into  the  forest,  but  neither  had 
the  courage  to  do  it.  They  quarrelled  and  almost 
came  to  blows  over  this.  Then  it  was  decided 
that  they  move  away.  But  where  and  when? 
They  dared  not  attract  suspicion,  but  how  could 
they  remain  longer  under  the  roof  where  such 
sounds  made  night  so  damnably  horrible? 

One  night  while  they  were  eating  supper,  with 
the  inevitable  quart  bottle  of  whiskey  on  the 
table,  they  heard  the  cover  of  the  dough-tray 
fall  to  the  floor.  Looking  around,  they  were 
certain  that  they  saw  the  bent  form  of  the  old, 
dead  woman,  Mammy  Ehrenwhoof,  carrying  the 
corpse  of  the  murdered  child  in  her  arms.  Sweek 
and  his  wife  uttered  a  series  of  piercing  yells, 
and  fell  off  their  chairs  in  a  maudlin,  fainting 
condition.  When  they  recovered  themselves, 
both  were  animated  by  a  different  spirit.  They 
stared  at  one  another  and  dragged  themselves 
to  their  feet. 


112  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

"I'm  going  to  the  county  jail,  and  give  my- 
self up,"  drawled  Sweek. 

"I'll  go  with  you,  there's  just  as  much  guilt 
on  me,"  said  the  wife.  The  stars  were  out,  the 
road  over  the  hill  towards  the  county  seat  twenty 
miles  away  was  broad  and  well  known  to  them. 
So  they  put  on  their  hats  and  coats ;  the  night  air 
in  May  was  sometimes  frosty  in  the  AUeghanies, 
And  through  the  Black  Forest  they  toiled  along, 
reaching  the  county  town  at  dawn  on  a  misty 
morning.  They  knew  the  county  jail  well,  with 
its  iron  grated  windows  and  brownstone  jail- 
yard  wall. 

They  seated  themselves,  a  frowsy  pair,  on  the 
front  steps  of  the  Sheriff's  house  next  door  to 
the  jail  building,  back  of  the  prim  old  court- 
house. The  blinds  were  down,  and  the  worthy 
official  evidently  was  a  late  sleeper.  As  the  sun 
drove  away  the  melancholy  mists,  Sweek  and  his 
wife  appeared  to  be  smiling  to  themselves. 

The  woman  noticed  the  improved  expression  of 
her  husband's  face,  and  said,  "Abe,  you  look 
ten  years  younger." 

"So  do  you,  Maggie,"  replied  the  man.  "It's 
an  awful  load  off  our  minds  now  that  we  are 
giving  ourselves  up." 


THE  LAST  SKIDWAY  ON  KETTLE  CREEK 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  113 

*'Yes,"  said  the  woman,  ''and  in  our  suffer- 
ing we  have  been  punished  for  that  hellish  deed 
that  whiskey  done  in  us.  But  say,  does  it  seem 
right  that  after  our  consciences  have  ripped  us 
to  pieces  that  law  has  to  step  in  and  punish  us 
all  over  again?" 

' '  If  you  feel  that  way,  woman,  there 's  time  to 
leave  here,  no  one's  seen  us  yet." 

"I  don't  care,"  answered  the  woman,  "let  the 
law  take  it's  course,  I'm  done." 

Just  at  that  minute  the  heavy,  walnut  door  of 
the  Sheriff's  home  was  unbolted  from  within, 
and  a  big,  blond,  round-faced  man,  coUarless 
and  in  carpet  slippers  stepped  out  on  the  porch. 


VI. 

THE  WINTER  OF  THE  WOLVES. 
(  A  Story  of  Windfall  Run.) 

URING  Indian  days  wolves 
were  never  over-prevalent  in 
the  Black  Forest.  The  red- 
men  were  a  safety  valve  which 
kept  their  numbers  within 
bounds.  They  hunted  the  animals  persistently 
for  their  hides,  but  at  the  same  time,  would 
never  have  thought  of  exterminating  them ;  they 
had  an  eye  for  the  future,  a  sense  of  responsi- 
bility for  the  generations  to  come.  There  must 
be  sport  and  fur  for  these. 

It  was  in  the  brief  period  after  the  redskins 
had  withdrawn  from  the  Black  Forest,  and  the 
white  settlers  had  not  arrived  in  great  numbers, 
that  the  wolves  threatened  to  become  a  menace. 
Unmolested,  they  increased  rapidly,  driving  the 
elks  and  deer  into  more  settled  regions,  west  and 
south  where  they  fell  easy  victims  to  the  rifles 
of  the  pioneers.  When  the  white  men  began 
114 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  116 

making  clearings  in  the  forest,  they  found  the 
wolves  ready  to  devour  their  sheep,  and  they 
cried  loudly  for  a  county  and  then  a  state  bounty 
to  encourage  their  destruction. 

The  legislators  at  Harrisburg,  always  eager 
to  vote  away  the  tax-payers'  money,  fixed  the 
bounty  rate  so  high  that  it  became  more  profit- 
able to  hunt  wolves  than  to  raise  sheep.  Many 
respectable  settlers  abandoned  farming  and 
stock-raising  altogether,  and  became  professional 
wolfers.  The  effect  was  demoralizing  to  the 
proper  opening  of  a  new  country,  and  agricul- 
ture was  given  a  backset  from  which  it  took 
half  a  century  to  recover.  In  some  sections  it 
never  recovered.  Everyone  enjoyed  hunting,  it 
was  easy  money ;  even  after  the  wolves,  panthers, 
catamounts  and  other  proscribed  animals  disap- 
peared, the  professional  bounty-chasers  were 
loath  to  go  back  to  the  plow  and  grubbing  hoe. 

Shortly  after  the  departure  of  most  of  the 
native  Indians,  of  the  Black  Forest,  it  was  in 
the  first  quarter  of  the  nineteenth  century,  fur- 
traders  were  attracted  to  the  region  by  tales  of 
the  plentitude  of  wolves  and  fur-bearing  animals 
in  general.     Among  these  was  a  Polish  refugee 


116  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

named  John  Wallize  who  had  settled  in  Philadel- 
phia as  a  shop-keeper,  but  who  was  glad  to  go 
back  to  his  early  calling  of  wolf-hunter,  when 
he  learned  that  similar  animals  abounded  in 
parts  of  Northern  Pennsylvania.  Pennsylvania 
wolf  hides  shown  him  were  remarkably  like  wolf 
hides  from  Poland  and  Russia.  He  sold  his 
notion  shop,  and  devoted  the  proceeds  to  fitting 
out  an  expedition  to  be  gone  an  entire  winter, 
so  as  to  get  the  hides  in  prime  condition. 

He  boated  his  supplies  from  Harrisburg  to 
Jersey  Shore,  where  he  engaged  pack-horses  to 
take  him  into  the  big  forests  to  the  North.  In 
Jersey  Shore  he  also  found  a  number  of  Indians 
who  offered  their  services  as  wolfers,  who  knew 
the  country  well.  He  was  recommended  to  hire 
Tallchief,  then  a  youth  of  eighteen  or  twenty, 
and  a  fine,  six-foot  savage  he  was.  Little  Canoe, 
a  short  Indian,  but  well  versed  in  woodcraft,  and 
Jack  Berry,  an  excellent  cook  and  general  handy 
man  on  the  trap-line  or  in  the  shanty. 

These  Indians  said  that  from  all  reports 
wolves  would  be  unusually  prevalent — ^that  it 
would  be  a  regular  winter  of  the  wolves.  Wal- 
lize explained  to  them  that  he  wished  to  secure 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  117 

at  least  five  hundred  prime  wolf  hides,  one  hun- 
dred black  bear  skins,  one  hundred  black  fox 
skins,  and  other  hides,  else  it  would  not  pay  him 
to  start  on  such  a  costly  expedition.  The  Indians 
assured  him  that  a  catch  of  that  size  would  be 
possible,  and  offered  their  services  free  in  case 
a  smaller  number  of  hides  were  secured. 

This  seemed  like  a  good  guarantee  for  results, 
so  preparations  were  completed.  Tallchief,  al- 
though the  youngest  of  the  party,  seemed  to  be 
the  most  experienced  wolfer,  so  he  was  appealed 
to  for  the  selection  of  the  camp-site  or  headquar- 
ters. He  said  that  he  had  once  spent  a  winter 
on  Windfall  Run,  in  what  is  now  Potter  County, 
that  wolves  bred  in  the  rocks  all  along  the  creek, 
and  that  they  gathered  in  the  mountains  there 
by  the  hundreds. 

It  was  before  the  days  of  the  Coudersport 
Pike,  so  the  pack-horses  had  to  follow  a  narrow 
trail  through  the  forest.  The  beasts  were  owned 
by  Zack  Banghart,  who  carried  on  a  profitable 
packing  business  through  the  unsettled  moun- 
tainous regions.  It  was  arranged  that  he  would 
come  for  the  campers  again  on  or  about  April 
first,  if  the  snow  was  gone  sufficiently  by  that 


118  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

time;  the  start  was  made  the  first  week  in  De- 
cember. The  weather  was  unusually  cold  for 
that  time  of  the  year,  but  that  was  rather  pleas- 
ing to  Wallize;  it  meant  finer  furs,  he  said.  At 
least,  it  was  that  way  in  the  old  country. 

It  was  a  journey  of  several  days  over  range 
after  range  of  black  forested  mountains  and 
across  scores  of  swift  streams,  until  the  Windfall 
Run  region  was  reached.  This  creek  is  a  tribu- 
tary of  the  Cross  Fork  of  Kettle  Creek,  and 
flows  through  a  narrow,  rocky  valley.  Here,  cen- 
turies before,  panthers  and  wolves  had  fought 
for  the  undisputed  possession  of  the  caverns,  the 
v/olves  coming  out  victorious.  The  Indians 
trapped  and  shot  many  wolves  in  this  vicinity, 
but  not  enough  to  make  the  animals  abandon 
the  region.  It  was  an  ideal  breeding  and  feed- 
ing ground,  it  would  take  a  general  crusade  to 
drive  them  out. 

Wallize  was  delighted  with  the  appearance  of 
the  valley.  Already  covered  with  snow,  wolf 
tracks  were  everywhere.  Windfalls  had  thrown 
the  giant  hemlocks  which  grew  in  abundance 
against  the  face  of  the  cliffs,  and  concealed  the 
wolf  dens  from  view.     One  could  not  guess  the 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  119 

proximity  or  number  of  wolves  in  the  valley, 
unless  seeing  their  tracks  after  a  snowfall.  As 
they  had  not  learned  the  habit  from  imitating 
dogs,  the  primitive  wolves  of  Windfall  Run  sel- 
dom barked.  All  their  time  was  spent  foraging ; 
they  had  no  time  for  barking  antics.  Wallize 
purposely  brought  no  dogs  along,  as  these  ani- 
mals only  excited  the  wolves,  and  kept  them  con- 
stantly moving.  Wolf -hunting  with  dogs  worked 
very  well  on  the  steppes  or  plains  in  the  old 
country,  but  not  in  hilly  regions.  He  wished  to 
trap  quietly,  in  the  old-fashioned  Indian  style 
and  the  wolves  would  be  scarcely  aware  of  his 
efforts  to  capture  them,  so  stealthily  would  he 
pursue  his  purpose.  He  brought  a  number  of 
iron  traps  modelled  after  the  kind  used  so  suc- 
cessfully in  Europe  at  the  time,  but  he  also 
planned  to  use  pitfalls  and  snares,  which  Indian 
trappers  assured  him  worked  very  well.  He 
would  try  three  or  four  methods,  one  after  an- 
other, at  first,  then  devote  his  whole  time  to  the 
best  method  thereafter. 

Camp  was  pitched  on  the  small  clearing  which 
Tallchief  and  his  brothers  had  used  when  wolfing 
in  the  valley  three  winters  before.    A  waterfall 


120  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

ran  out  of  the  rocks  close  at  hand,  which  flowed 
into  a  pebbly  bowl,  admirable  for  washing  or 
drinking  purposes.  A  log  cabin  was  quickly 
constructed,  its  rear  wall  abutting  against  the 
steep  mountain  side,  and  close  to  where  the  cas- 
cade poured  out  of  the  rocks.  It  seemed  an  ideal 
situation,  and  Wallize  could  not  help  but  loudly 
express  his  gratification.  The  Indians  laid  out 
the  traps  along  the  wolves'  favorite  paths,  the 
European  method  was  to  be  tried  first.  An  espe- 
cial effort  was  made  to  set  out  bear  traps,  as  these 
animals  were  soon  due  to  den  up  for  the  winter. 

The  result  of  the  first  twenty-four  hours'  trap- 
ping was  startlingly  successful.  Twenty-five 
wolves  and  four  black  bears  were  brought  into 
camp,  all  captured  within  a  radius  of  one  mile 
of  the  headquarters.  Wallize  was  overjoyed.  He 
examined  the  wolf  hides  carefully,  remarking 
that  they  compared  favorably  with  any  taken  in 
the  coldest  parts  of  Russia.  Thej'  were  grey 
wolves,  and  some  of  them  weighed  in  life  close 
to  a  hundred  pounds.  The  first  week  of  trapping 
by  the  European  method  brought  in  one  hundred 
and  ten  wolves,  and  eight  black  bears.  These 
numbers  were  greater  than  the  Pole  had  antici- 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  121 

pated,  so  he  concluded  to  make  this  his  standard 
method  during  the  winter.  There  were  more 
snowfalls,  yet  the  trapping  continued  good.  The 
first  day  traps  were  set  within  one  mile  of  camp, 
gradually  this  radius  was  widened  to  four  miles 
by  the  eighth  day.  A  ten-mile  radius  was  the 
greatest  territory  to  be  "set,"  unless  luck  would 
materially  change  for  the  worse. 

The  wolves  seemed  very  tame,  and  easily 
fooled  into  involving  themselves  with  the  traps. 
The  bear  traps  did  not  do  so  well,  but  the  In- 
dians said  that  the  heavy  snow  had  hurried  the 
sluggish  creatures  into  winter  quarters.  But  if 
they  did  not  get  the  expected  number  of  bear 
hides  it  looked  as  if  they  would  obtain  at  least 
a  thousand  wolves,  and  there  were  prospects  that 
a  big  number  of  otters  would  be  speared  through 
the  ice  in  various  nearby  streams. 

Wallize  made  no  complaint,  it  was  much  bet- 
ter than  he  had  anticipated.  During  the  second 
week  in  camp  there  was  a  snowstorm  every  day. 
The  gradual  accretion  was  becoming  consider- 
able as  there  were  no  thaws.  It  banked  about  the 
cabin  clear  to  the  bottom  of  the  windows;  on 
the  level  ground  it  measured  four  and  a  half 


122  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

feet  on  Christmas  Eve.  During  these  daily 
blizzards  trapping  came  to  a  temporary  stand- 
still. The  traps  were  buried  in  the  drifts,  the 
wolves  and  other  animals  remained  in  their  fast- 
nesses. In  the  second  week  only  twenty-four 
wolves  and  one  black  bear  were  brought  into 
camp.  But  Wallize  did  not  complain;  he  knew 
he  was  in  a  country  rich  in  fur-bearing  animals ; 
when  the  snow  went  off  wholesale  trapping 
would  resume. 

On  Christmas  Eve  a  mammoth  panther,  a  rare 
animal  in  the  valley,  visited  the  cabin.  It  was 
evidently  hunger  crazed,  for  it  leaped  from  the 
mountain  side  on  the  shanty  roof.  It  tore  at  the 
bark  roof  so  savagely  that  Little  Canoe,  fearing 
it  would  rip  a  hole  and  fall  in  on  the  trappers 
seized  his  rifle  and  shot  in  the  direction  from 
whence  the  sounds  came.  The  shot  was  a  good 
one,  for  the  brute  uttered  a  howl  of  pain  and 
sprang  into  space,  landing  in  the  snow  twenty 
feet  in  front  of  the  shack.  The  trappers  went 
out  and  found  that  it  had  been  shot  through  the 
heart.  It  was  very  old,  as  it  was  practically 
toothless,  even  its  claws  were  worn  almost  down 
to  the  quick.    Wallize  measured  it,  according  to 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  123 

his  expert  methods.  Before  skinning,  the  mon- 
ster was  ten  feet  five  inches  from  tip  to  tip,  or 
the  length  of  the  largest  African  lion  on  record. 
After  skinning  it  stretched  ten  feet  ten  and  one- 
half  inches.  Many  sporting  writers  and  natural- 
ists state  that  Pennsylvania  panthers  could  not 
have  been  so  big  as  the  old  hunters  claimed,  but 
there  are  a  number  of  authentic  instances  show- 
ing that  the  animals  were  much  larger  than 
modern  hunters,  used  only  to  measuring  wood- 
chucks  and  foxes,  believed  them  to  be. 

On  Christmas  morning  the  snow  began  in 
earnest.  It  looked  as  if  the  veritable  "down 
mattress"  was  being  dumped  from  the  heavens. 
Little  Canoe  and  Jack  Berry  spent  the  morning 
preparing  a  grand  mid-day  feast,  with  panther 
steak  and  wolf  fore-quarters,  the  pieces  de  resist- 
ance. The  cooking  meat,  in  the  great,  open  fire- 
place, gave  out  a  savory  odor,  and  turned  the 
minds  of  the  trappers  from  the  dreary  aspect 
outside.  When  the  dinner  began,  the  snow 
banked  half  way  to  the  tops  of  the  windows,  and 
still  was  coming  down. 

"It  ought  to  quit  by  night,"  said  Tallchief, 
who  young  as  he  was,  had  been  looked  to  as  the 


124  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

weather  prophet  of  the  party.  When  night  closed 
in,  the  snow  was  level  with  the  tops  of  the  win- 
dows. It  had  been  so  dark  for  hours  before,  that 
the  only  way  in  which  time  could  be  figured  was 
by  Wallize  's  silver  watch.  It  was  one  of  the  first 
ones  that  the  Indians  had  seen,  and  they  were 
fascinated  by  its  mechanism  and  neatness.  When 
the  watch  told  the  trappers  that  morning  had 
arrived,  they  found  that  the  snow  was  packed  so 
solidly  about  the  cabin  that  they  could  not  get 
out.  They  estimated  that  the  drifts  were  as  high 
as  the  roof.  They  would  have  smothered  to  death 
had  it  not  been  for  the  tall  stone  chimney  which 
proved  to  be  an  admirable  ventilator.  Judging 
from  the  amount  of  snow  which  fell  down  the 
chimney,  the  storm  was  still  in  progress.  It  had 
now  apparently  gone  on  without  a  break  for  over 
thirty-six  hours,  and  there  seemed  to  be  no  signs 
of  its  letting  up.  During  the  day  the  snow  di- 
minished, but  a  wind  of  high  velocity  arose.  Even 
in  the  sheltered  valley,  it  howled  and  whistled 
around  the  rocks,  trees  and  gullies. 

There  was  nothing  for  the  trappers  to  do  but 
to  be  patient,  and  as  they  thought  they  were  well 
provisioned,  they  viewed  the  situation  with  non- 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  125 

chalance.  For  the  next  week  there  were  more 
snowstorms,  and  several  more  terrific  wind- 
storms. By  the  awful  noises  outside,  many  big 
trees  were  being  blown  over.  The  supply  of 
fresh  meat,  mostly  bear  steaks,  on  which  they 
had  feasted  at  first,  ran  out,  and  they  found  that 
the  rest  of  their  provisions  were  of  a  kind  un- 
fitted to  sustain  four  strong,  healthy  men  in  a 
long  captivity.  The  air  in  the  shanty  was  be- 
coming close  and  unwholesome  from  constant 
breathing,  to  say  nothing  of  the  proximity  of 
so  many  animal  hides.  The  chimney  was  aU  right 
enough  for  a  few  days,  but  the  volume  of  impure 
air  proved  too  great  for  its  capacity  in  time. 
The  men  made  a  desperate  effort  to  get  out.  They 
lifted  the  door  from  its  hinges,  finding  a  wall  of 
snow,  higher  than  the  shanty  in  front  of  them. 
This  they  attacked  with  picks  and  shovels,  but 
they  found  that  they  were  getting  nowhere. 
While  they  worked  the  snow  was  falling  and  the 
wind  drifted  it  wherever  they  made  slight  head- 
way in  clearing  a  path. 

When  night  set  in,  no  actual  progress  had 
been  made.  About  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
the  wind  attained  a  greater  velocity  than  ever 


126  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

before.  If  the  cabin  had  not  been  hedged  in  by 
immense  snowdrifts,  it  would  have  been  blown 
to  pieces.  A  number  of  stones  were  blown  off 
the  chimney,  reducing  its  height  to  the  level  of 
the  drifts.  There  was  a  constant  boom,  bang, 
crash  of  falling  trees  and  of  rocks  rolling  from 
the  sides  of  the  steep  mountains. 

"If  a  big  rock  from  above  us  should  fall  on 
our  roof  it  would  be  an  end  to  us,"  said  Jack 
Berry.  The  rest  of  the  party  accepted  his  views 
in  silence.  They  knew  what  he  said  was  only  too 
true. 

About  midnight  they  heard  a  terrific  rumbling 
and  ripping  far  up  on  the  mountain  above  the 
cabin.  The  wind  kept  on  sweeping  in  dreadful 
gales,  so  cold  that  it  penetrated  the  sheltered 
hut.  Since  the  upper  stones  of  the  chimney  had 
been  knocked  off  the  fire  would  not  draw  well, 
and  the  men  who  became  half  frozen,  as  well  as 
overcome  by  the  impure  air,  huddled  under  the 
piles  of  wolf  hides,  which  now  were  most  useful 
as  coverings. 

It  was  not  long  until  the  wind  shook  loose  a 
group  of  giant  hemlocks  which  grew  on  the  face 
of  the  mountain,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  straight  up 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  127 

from  the  cabin.  With  their  roots  gripping  heavy 
rocks,  earth,  and  ice,  they  started  downward 
with  a  roar  like  the  end  of  the  world.  It  was 
the  most  terrible  sound  that  any  of  the  trappers 
had  ever  heard.  They  thought  that  their  hour 
had  come. 

Down  the  mountain  the  avalanche  came  car- 
rying everything  with  it.  As  it  neared  the  shanty, 
it  sent  its  immense  volume  over  the  roof,  com- 
pletely burying  it  under  tons  of  debris.  The 
fact  that  the  mass  of  matter  swept  over  the 
cabin,  and  did  not  fall  straight  on  it,  prevented 
its  complete  annihilation.  As  it  was,  it  was  little 
short  of  a  miracle  that  cabin  and  inmates  es- 
caped. But  their  situation  was  one  of  grave 
danger.  Even  if  the  snowstorms  ceased,  it 
would  take  days  of  work  for  the  captives  to  dig 
themselves  out.  The  provisions,  such  as  they 
had,  were  sure  to  run  out,  for  without  fresh 
meat,  they  would  quickly  finish  the  goods  on 
hand. 

There  seemed  to  be  some  opening  which  let 
in  ventilation  through  the  chimney,  but  not 
much.  The  captives  surveyed  the  situation  and 
resolved  to  dig  out  at  any  cost.    The  giant  trees 


128  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

which  were  loosened  by  the  tornado  had  slid 
down  the  mountain  butts  foremost.  The  huge 
roots,  in  which  were  matted  rocks,  earth,  ice  and 
snow,  had  lodged  directly  in  front  of  the  cabin, 
where  the  doors  and  two  .small  windows  were 
located.  This  cut  off  that  direction  as  an  avenue 
of  escape.  The  only  way  to  get  out  would  be  to 
knock  a  hole  in  the  house  on  one  of  the  other 
sides.  The  side  opposite  the  entrance  abutted 
against  the  mountain,  on  one  other  side  the 
chimney  was  almost  the  width  of  the  structure. 

There  was  one  way  to  escape,  and  on  that  side 
the  trappers  commenced  pulling  off  the  log-walls. 
When  they  had  made  an  opening  sufficiently 
large,  they  began  their  atack  on  the  snow.  To 
their  intense  disappointment,  they  found  that 
part  of  the  landslide  had  engulfed  that  side  of 
the  cabin  also,  and  the  spring  had  frozen  the 
entire  debris  into  a  solid  mass.  They  now  began 
to  calculate  that  the  hut  was  entirely  buried  be- 
neath the  avalanche. 

The  wolf-hunters  were  as  securely  trapped  as 
any  of  the  fur-bearers  had  been.  But  they  de- 
termined to  continue  their  efforts  for  escape,  al- 
though the  faint  ventilation  received  was  barely 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  129 

enough  to  keep  them  alive.  They  threw  them- 
selves down  on  the  piles  of  furs,  distressed  in 
body  and  spirit.  But  sometimes  hope  appears 
at  the  darkest  moment. 

Wallize,  who  was  resting  on  the  side  of  the 
cabin  nearest  to  the  big  chimney,  fancied  he 
heard  a  scraping  noise  outside.  At  first,  he  put 
his  hand  to  his  fevered  brow,  imagining  that  it 
was  some  hallucination  to  a  disordered  intellect. 
He  felt  sure,  as  time  wore  on  that  the  sound  was 
outside,  and  not  from  within  his  head.  He  lis- 
tened intently;  it  was  not  as  near  to  the  struc- 
ture as  he  thought  at  first.  It  sounded  like  dogs 
digging  at  a  woodchuck's  hole,  only  much  loud- 
er. The  three  Indians  became  deathly  ill  from 
lack  of  air,  and  rolled  about  on  the  furs,  as  if 
seasick,  oblivious  to  everything. 

The  sound  of  something  moving  outside  had 
a  reviving  effect  on  Wallize.  Some  living  force 
was  coming  to  the  rescue  of  the  unfortunate 
trappers.  Yet  it  could  not  be  human  aid,  not 
possibly.  Yet  what  could  it  be  ?  He  feared  to 
tell  the  others  lest  it  subside,  and  cause  a  greater 
depression  of  spirits  among  the  Indians  than 
before.     He  had  read  and  been  told  of  the  sto- 


130  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

lidity  of  the  redskins,  but  in  this  instance,  he,  the 
pale  face,  was  facing  death  with  more  equanim- 
ity than  the  Indian  stoics.  He  kept  listening; 
the  scraping  grew  louder  and  louder.  All  the 
day  it  continued;  how  much  longer  it  had  been 
at  work  he  knew  not. 

At  nightfall,  a  snapping  and  snarling  like  sav- 
age dogs  was  added  to  the  scraping  sound.  This 
the  Indians  heard ;  pale  as  corpses  and  tottering 
they  were  on  their  feet  in  an  instant. 

"The  wolves  are  outside,  the  wolves  are  out- 
side," shouted  Little  Canoe,  in  a  delirious 
ecstacy. 

"Take  your  axes,  boys,  and  cut  away  that 
wall,"  shouted  Wallize. 

The  noise  was  too  loud  to  be  far  off  now.  The 
weakened  savages  began  slashing  at  the  logs 
beside  the  chimney  great  chips  flying  all  over 
the  disordered  room.  Working  all  at  once,  and 
crazed  with  excitement,  their  axe-bits  often 
struck  together  with  sonorous  music.  Soon  the 
wall  was  demolished,  and  but  two  feet  of  snow 
remained  between  the  trappers  and  the  pack  of 
wolves. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  131 

The  beasts  were  crazed  with  hunger,  and  were 
working  as  fast  as  the  trappers.  The  snow  was 
brushed  away,  and  the  faces  of  a  pack  of  lean, 
hideous  looking  beasts  peered  in  on  the  human 
captives.  The  smell  of  living  beings  and  food 
inflamed  the  starving  creatures,  and  they  pressed 
one  another  forward  into  the  breach.  The  In- 
dians allowed  the  first  dozen  to  get  into  the 
room,  then  they  began  splitting  their  skulls  with 
the  axes.  The  impact  of  those  behind  forced 
the  others  forward  and  they  kept  appearing  at 
the  opening,  where  they  were  met  by  the  subtle 
trappers. 

With  the  wolves  came  a  gust  of  fresh  air, 
which  added  to  the  ardor  of  the  home-defenders. 
The  battle  with  the  wolves  must  have  kept  up 
for  hours.  Every  wolf  in  Windfall  Valley  seemed 
to  be  a  participant.  But  if  so,  not  a  single  one 
escaped  with  his  life. 

The  "grandfather"  wolf,  a  veritable  giant 
which  usually  led  the  pack  was  the  last  to  ap- 
pear, and  the  hardest  to  brain.  He  insisted  on 
forcing  himself  into  the  room,  though  his  skull 
had  been  cleaved  at  the  door.  With  remarkable 
vitality,  he  leaped  about    the    room,    snapping 


132  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

furiously.  He  buried  his  fangs  in  Little  Canoe 's 
hip  before  he  was  chopped  to  death. 

With  a  free  opening  to  outdoors,  the  released 
captives  made  for  the  open  through  the  tunnel 
dug  by  the  wolves.  They  did  not  wait  to  count  the 
dead  wolves.  Once  outside  in  the  snowdrifts, 
with  the  clear  moonlight  shining  down  on  them, 
they  offered  up  a  prayer  of  thanksgiving.  Wal- 
lize,  who  was  a  renegade  Roman  Catholic  and 
hardened  free-thinker,  experienced  a  genuine 
repentance.  The  Indians  danced  hysterically, 
singing  bits  of  hymns  and  rhapsodies  they  had 
learned  from  the  celebrated  missionary  Jemima 
Wilkinson. 

Then  they  became  hungry  and  persuaded  Wal- 
lize  to  re-enter  the  cabin,  and  help  them  drag 
the  cooking  utensils  outside,  to  prepare  for  a 
feast.  By  the  moonlight  it  could  be  seen  that 
the  cabin  had  been  completely  engulfed  by  hun- 
dreds of  tons  of  earth  and  timber,  and  had  it 
not  been  for  the  wolves  the  men  would  have 
been  slowly  starved  and  smothered  to  death. 

"What  a  shame  it  was  to  kill  those  wolves, 
our  deliverers, ' '  said  Wallize,  as  he  was  helping 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  133 

Little  Canoe  skin  a  young  wolf — apparently  the 
fattest  of  a  very  lean  pack. 

"It  was  wrong,  especially  as  we  Indians  be- 
long to  the  clan  whose  patron  saint  is  the  wolf, ' ' 
replied  the  limping  little  Indian,  "but  what 
were  we  to  do  ?  The  wolves  dug  us  out,  not  be- 
cause they  wanted  to  save  us,  but  because  they 
wanted  to  eat  us." 

Meanwhile  Tallchief  emerged  from  the  tun- 
nel, clapping  his  hands. 

"Mister  Wallize,"  he  said,  "I  have  happy 
news  for  you,  there  are  nearly  three  hundred 
dead  wolves  in  there;  those  with  the  hides  we 
had  before  bring  the  number  almost  to  five  hun- 
dred, the  amount  you  wanted.  The  wolves  saved 
our  lives,  and  made  us  keep  our  promise  to  you. 
They  have  surely  blessed  us." 

Wallize  smiled,  and  said,  * '  That  is  good  news, 
but  I  would  have  been  satisfied  with  less  wolves 
this  winter;  it  was  hard  to  kill  our  saviors." 

By  this  time  the  hind-quarters  of  the  young 
wolf  had  been  roasted  to  a  turn,  and  an  enjoy- 
able feast  began.  All  agreed  that  they  had 
never  enjoyed  a  meal  as  much  before  in  all  their 


184  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

lives.  After  eating,  they  sang  more  religious 
songs.  Then  they  all  set  to  skinning  the  dead 
wolves,  Wallize  shouting  for  joy  every  time  one 
was  pulled  from  the  pile,  which  was  as  high  as 
the  roof  of  the  cabin,  declaring  them  to  be  finer 
than  the  best  Siberian  pelts.  After  many 
perils,  all  was  ending  well.  With  the  last  hide 
peeled  off,  the  men  lay  down  for  a  much  deserved 
nap.  They  forgot  to  close  the  door  to  the  tun- 
nel, but  if  there  were  more  wolves  nigh,  none 
bothered  them. 

When  they  awoke,  perfectly  refreshed,  Wal- 
lize said  that  he  was  ready  to  set  out  his  traps 
again,  he  would  stay  in  camp  until  he  got  his 
required  number  of  hides  and  until  Zaek  Bang- 
hart,  the  trapper,  returned  in  April. 

The  Indians  had  another  joyous  scene  among 
themselves.  "You  are  a  real  man,  you  are  not 
soft,  we  like  to  work  for  your  kind,"  they  said 
in  chorus. 

The  wolf  hides  on  hand  were  then  counted. 
They  numbered  four  hundred  and  one. 

"That  extra  one  must  be  the  old  'grand- 
father' that  bit  you  so  badly,"  said  Wallize, 
turning  to  Little  Canoe,  who  laughed  loudly  as 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  135 

he  limped  about  the  hut.  The  trapping  went  on 
unmarred  by  disagreeable  incidents  for  the  bal- 
ance of  the  winter,  and  when  Banghart  and  his 
horses  appeared,  true  to  agreement,  the  first 
week  in  April,  there  were  nearly  a  thousand  wolf 
pelts,  and  the  furs  of  a  thousand  other  animals, 
bears,  otters,  beavers,  all  kinds  of  foxes,  fishers, 
martens,  and  wolverines  to  be  packed  to  Jersey 
Shore.  These  Wallize  sold  to  good  advantage 
in  Philadelphia, 

Shortly  afterwards,  he  removed  to  the  foot 
of  the  Blue  Mountains,  in  Schuylkill  County, 
where  he  opened  a  general  store.  He  had  shown 
pluck  in  fighting  down  all  obstacles  in  the  Black 
Forest,  but  he  did  not  desire  to  trap  again.  Prov- 
idence had  seen  him  through,  he  would  not  risk 
it  more.  He  was  well  over  eighty  when  he  died, 
leaving  many  descendants,  to  all  of  whom  he 
delighted  on  cold  evenings  before  a  blazing  fire 
to  describe  his  remarkable  story  of  the  winter 
of  the  wolves. 


VII. 

THE  THREE  RIVERS. 

(A  Legend  of  Potter  County.) 

UT  on  the  Bell  farm  near  New- 
field,  in  Potter  County,  three 
beautiful,  crystalline  springs 
rise,  not  half  a  mile  apart. 
Their  store  of  limpid  water 
never  grows  less,  even  in  protracted  dry  spells 
— their  temperature  is  the  same  at  all  seasons 
of  the  year.  So  pure  and  lovely  are  they  that 
it  would  seem  as  if  they  came  straight  and  un- 
sullied from  the  heart  of  Mother  Earth.  For 
centuries  they  have  quenched  the  thirst  of  sav- 
age, of  white  man,  of  wild  and  domestic  beasts 
and  birds,  and  flowing  through  woods  and  pas- 
tures been  a  blessing  to  the  world.  As  they  pro- 
gress from  their  sources,  they  appear  to  grow 
in  strength  as  well  as  volume,  they  attract  other 
springs,  rivulets,  and  cascades,  and  swelling  into 
maternity  become  majestic  and  useful  rivers. 
One  grows  to  become  the  Genesee,  which  emp- 
136 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  137 

ties  into  Lake  Ontario,  thence  into  the  St.  Law- 
rence River  and  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence,  into  the 
North  Atlantic;  another  develops  into  the  Alle- 
ghany, Avhich  runs  into  the  Ohio,  which  in  turn 
is  merged  in  the  Red  River,  a  tributary  of  the 
Mississippi,  which  'empties  into  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico,  while  the  third  is  known  by  the  name 
of  Tiadaghton,  and  empties  into  the  West 
Branch  of  the  Susquehanna,  which  flows  into 
Chesapeake  Bay  and  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  three 
very  remarkable,  yet  dissimilar  destinies,  though 
they  are  lives  filled  with  good  deeds  and  honors. 

The  geographers  and  the  historians  never 
bring  out  their  books  without  a  paragraph  or 
two  devoted  to  the  three  springs  on  the  Bell 
farm,  and  how  they  became  three  great  rivers. 
Old  and  young  have  heard  of  them,  but  pass 
over  the  subject  as  quickly  as  do  the  scientific 
writers  and  history-makers. 

Underneath  the  scientific  facts  and  historical 
basis,  runs  a  quaint  legend,  which  only  the  In- 
dians repeated,  because  only  the  Indians  cared. 
A  beautiful  spot  always  conveyed  more  to  these 
children  of  the  forests  than  mere  physical  beau- 
ty— they  sought  the  soul  underneath.    They  ad- 


138  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

mired  a  mountain  not  for  its  bigness,  but  for  the 
spiritual  element  it  represented.  When  they 
saw  a  person  they  admired,  they  were  taught 
to  refrain  from  saying,  "What  a  beautiful  per- 
son," but  instead  would  inquire,  ''What  is  that 
person's  story,  what  has  he  done  in  his  life  that 
is  of  interest  ? ' '  And  when  they  saw  a  beautiful 
spot  they  at  once  asked  what  history  was  con- 
nected with  it,  what  legends  of  the  unseen  or 
supernatural  worlds  clustered  about  it — they 
delved  for  its  inmost  meaning,  which  lasts  long- 
est. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  feel  that  romantic  or  even 
supernatural  things  do  not  happen  now.  They 
surely  do,  only  we  do  not  look  for  that  side  of 
things  these  days.  At  least  most  of  us  don't. 
From  earliest  childhood  we  have  been  taught  to 
doubt  and  disbelieve.  What  is  within  and  un- 
seen is  called  impossible.  Even  religion  has 
been  questioned,  but  only  because  everything 
else  has  been.  Doubt  has  crept  into  every  nook 
and  corner — ^the  faithful  have  had  to  hide  them- 
selves. They  are  ashamed  of  every  underground 
stream  in  their  spirits.  They  are  worse  off  than 
the  earliest  professors  of  Christianity.     But  as 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  139 

the  legend  of  the  three  springs,  which  grow  into 
the  three  great  rivers,  concerns  something  which 
we  see,  and  which  benefits  us  all,  it  may  have 
some  excuse  in  this  practical  generation  for  be- 
ing repeated  in  these  pages. 

Many,  many  years  ago,  when  the  Indian  world 
was  new  and  mankind  in  closer  touch  with  the 
Gitchi-Manitto  or  the  Great  Spirit,  than  at  the 
present  time,  there  dwelt  on  one  of  the  highest 
mountains  in  the  Seneca  country,  a  learned  red- 
man  named  Nahimen,  or  Sailor-Do\vTi-the- 
Stream.  He  was  strangely  gifted  with  the  power 
of  second  sight  in  an  age  of  soothsayers  and  wise 
men.  He  saw  so  acutely  into  the  future  that  it 
caused  him  much  pain.  It  was  only  when  he 
could  interest  himself  in  the  affairs  of  every  day 
life,  in  commonplaces,  that  his  soul  would  give 
him  any  rest.  But  that  was  not  often,  as  his 
intellect  had  trained  itself  to  introspection. 

Loving  the  world  and  its  people  he  could  see 
the  wretched  end  of  everyone,  and  it  tinged  his 
thoughts  and  speech  with  sadness.  The  mystery 
of  why  the  Omnipotent  permitted  so  much  suf- 
fering among  the  creatures  of  his  world  bowed 
him  with  constant  striving  to  unravel  the  un- 


140  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

knowable.  It  was  all  for  the  best  he  was  sure, 
he  accepted  the  will  of  the  Great  Spirit,  but  with 
an  unforgettable  sadness. 

Earl}^  in  life  he  met  and  loved  the  most  beau- 
tiful maid  in  the  entire  mountain  country,  the 
delectable  Pechamawayo,  or  Wild  Red  Plum. 
The  love  was  reciprocated,  and  the  young  couple 
were  joined  together  in  bonds  of  happy  matri- 
mony. The  union  was  an  ideal  one,  not  a  cloud 
to  mar  its  harmony,  and  three  little  daughters 
were  born  to  tighter  cement  the  bonds. 

Then  the  fair  Pechamawayo  fell  sick  and  died, 
so  quickly  that  nothing  could  be  done  to  save 
her.  She  vanished  from  the  world  like  the  love- 
ly blossom  of  the  Wild  Red  Plum  does  in  the 
month  of  May.  Nahimen  was  heartbroken,  but 
he  tried  to  bear  his  sorrow  bravely.  He  had  the 
three  little  girls,  that  was  more  than  was  left 
in  many  stricken  homes  he  knew.  He  resolved 
to  cherish  his  wife 's  memory  by  bringing  up  the 
children  as  carefully  as  possible,  to  make  them 
worthy  of  the  best  in  life.  And  the  forces  of 
nature,  or  perhaps  the  Great  Spirit,  seeing  this, 
granted  Nahimen  power  to  converse  with  the 
soul  of  his  departed  wife. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  141 

While  this  seemed  like  a  marvellous  benefice, 
it  was  not  without  its  element  of  melancholy. 
Pechamawayo,  beyond  the  veil,  knew  the  past, 
present  and  future,  but  only  passively.  She 
could  not  help  in  any  way,  though  she  knew  the 
certitude  of  evil  destinies  for  her  late  friends 
and  those  she  loved.  She  could  tell  her  knowl- 
edge to  her  husband,  but  even  he  knew  no  way  to 
check  inexorable  fate.  Maybe  it  was  better  to 
have  everything  come  unexpectedly  as  the  Great 
Spirit  has  arranged  it  for  most  of  us. 

But  human  nature  wants  to  know  what  is  be- 
yond— it  is  living  generally  in  a  happy  or  un- 
happy tomorrow,  generally  the  former  state. 
Nahimen  with  all  his  wisdom  delighted  in  learn- 
ing what  was  ahead,  even  though  it  came 
through  his  dead  wife's  departed  spirit,  and 
might  not  describe  a  comfortable  future  for  his 
loved  ones.  Had  he  not  been  of  superior  intel- 
lect, he  could  not  have  obtained  the  boon  of  be- 
ing in  tune  with  the  infinite.  While  he  enjoyed 
his  intellectual  pride,  more  truly  fortunate  were 
the  simple  souls  who  could  not  tell  one  day 
ahead.  In  that  way,  the  Great  Spirit  is  emi- 
nently fair  in  dividing  his  favors.     There  is  no 


142  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

class  of  the  spiritually  elect.  Nahimen  discussed 
the  futures  of  most  of  his  friends  and  relatives 
with  the  shade  of  his  deceased  wife.  Every  one 
was  destined  to  a  miserable  end,  some  would 
meet  it  within  a  few  hours  or  days  of  the  revela- 
tions. 

There  was  one  subject  on  which  he  longed  to 
touch,  yet  he  feared  to  do  so,  and  that  was  the 
future  of  the  three  little  girls  whom  he  was  car- 
ing for  so  tenderly.  In  his  heart  of  hearts,  he 
knew  their  fates  could  not  be  better  than  the 
rest  of  humanity,  yet  unknowing  he  rejoiced  in 
the  superficial  opinion  that  calmness  and  joy 
awaited  them,  that  their  lives  would  be  prolong- 
ed into  dim,  distant,  uncountable  years — that 
when  they  came  to  die  it  would  be  sought,  and 
like  some  gentle  sleep.  This  was  a  blissful  vis- 
ion, only  his  heart  told  him  it  wouldn't  come 
true,  and  all  the  while  the  soul  of  Pechamawayo 
knew  and  could  tell  him  if  he  asked  her.  She 
never  volunteered  any  information — he  had  to 
ask  her  everything,  but  with  cosmic  sense  she 
never  failed  to  give  the  exact  answer.  Some 
day  he  would  sum  up  courage  and  ask  her  how 
the  three  little  girls  were  to  fare.    If  well,  then 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  143 

his  hopes  were  confirmed ;  if  illy,  then  he  would 
be  prepared,  and  he  was  bold  enough  to  think 
that  perhaps  in  some  way  he  might  circumvent 
the  catastrophe,  he  could  not  grasp  the  full 
meaning  of  the  word  inevitable. 

All  the  while  Pechamawayo  knew  that  this 
was  on  his  mind,  and  she  strove  to  influence  him 
as  spirits  do,  to  refrain  from  mentioning  the 
subject.  Yet  she  knew  when  she  answered  him 
that  a  part  of  his  soul  would  refuse  to  believe 
— if  it  was  unfavorable  to  the  daughters'  wel- 
fare. The  question  of  what  was  to  happen  to 
the  three  girls,  who  were  named  Allie-gay-nay, 
Gay-nay-sayo  and  Tya-dagh-tune,  preyed  on  the 
wise  man 's  mind.  It  is  said  that  every  wise  man 
is  a  fool  somewhere,  and  the  future  of  the  three 
daughters  certainly  was  Nahimen's  most  unphil- 
osophic  aspect. 

At  length,  he  made  bold  to  ask  the  spirit  of 
Pechamawayo  what  was  to  become  of  the  be- 
loved girls.  There  was  sadness  in  the  phantom's 
voice  when  she  answered  him.  His  disembodied 
will  was  not  as  strong  as  his  incarnate  will,  she 
would  have  to  divulge  it  all. 


144  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

So  she  told  him  that  all  would  go  well  with 
the  fair  creatures  until  they  were  almost  out 
of  their  teens,  when  they  would  fall  in  with  evil 
associates,  becoming  corrupted,  polluted  and 
wretched.  Their  suffering  would  cause  untold 
grief  to  their  parents  who  would  be  powerless 
to  help  them.  At  the  time  of  their  downfall, 
Pechamawayo  declared  that  Nahimen  would  be 
a  resident  of  the  spirit  world.  This  looked  as 
if  he  would  soon  die.  All  this  was  more  than 
the  truth-seeker  could  stand.  Strong  man  that 
he  was,  he  fainted  dead  away. 

When  he  was  unconscious  the  spirit  of  his 
father,  who  had  been  dead  for  many  years,  ap- 
peared to  him.  In  his  trance,  he  asked  the 
venerable  redman  what,  if  anything,  could  be 
done  to  save  the  three  girls  from  the  horrible 
fate  that  the  soul  of  their  mother  predicted.  The 
shade  pointed  a  way  and  when  Nahimen  came 
to  his  senses,  there  was  a  smile  on  his  face.  The 
shock  of  so  much  bad  news,  followed  by  the 
solution  received  in  a  trance,  made  Nahimen 
very  ill.  He  lay  in  his  lodge  house  for  many 
weeks  suffering  from  a  consuming  fever.  De- 
spite this,  he  was  not  irrational.     He  had   a 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  ]45 

single  fixed  purpose — to  get  well  and  save  his 
daughters  from  lives  of  dishonor  and  loathsome 
misery.  He  was  so  anxious  to  get  well  that  it 
retarded  his  recovery.  It  took  all  his  force  as 
a  man  of  science  and  intellect  to  get  him  hack 
on  his  feet  again. 

When  he  was  again  able  to  summon  his  wife's 
spirit  before  him,  he  asked  her  how  he  could  save 
the  young  girls  from  their  awful  predestination. 
Peehamawayo 's  shade  replied  that  there  was 
only  one  way,  to  have  them  changed  into  other 
and  less  corruptible  forms,  a  tree,  a  rhododen- 
dron bush,  a  rock,  a  river. 

Nahimen  liked  the  river  idea  best,  a  stream 
flowing  on  practically  forever,  watering  and  fer- 
tilizing a  broad  land,  and  causing  prosperity  and 
comfort  to  untold  numbers  of  beings.  And  three 
daughters,  might  they  not  become  three  rivers? 

Peehamawayo  replied  that  it  could  easily  be 
done.  Nahimen 's  bosom  swelled  with  pride.  It 
would  be  hard  to  lose  the  companionship  and  in- 
tellectual sympathy  of  the  young  girls,  but  now 
they  would  become  immortals,  saints  of  bounty 
and  goodness. 


146  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

Then  his  wife's  shadowy  reflection  explained 
carefully  how  the  change  could  be  made.  It 
would  be  quick  and  painless,  first  of  all.  That 
was  good  news.  She  went  on  to  say  that  there 
was  an  aged  sorceress,  named  AUiakquot,  or 
Land  Kain,  who  in  early  Spring  and  late  Fall 
crossed  over  the  high  mountain  where  Nahimen 
lived.  In  some  way  she  was  allied  with  the 
Spirit  of  Spring  Showers  and  the  Spirit  of  the 
Equinox;  her  kinship  with  these  great  forces 
was  very  close.  It  was  too  late  to  see  her  that 
year,  but  she  would  be  back  in.  the  Spring,  after 
the  first  warm  day  following  the  melting  of  the 
snow.  He  would  know  by  her  bent  body,  her 
dripping  hair,  and  from  the  fact  that  she  had 
a  bunch  of  Mayflower  or  Arbutus  tied  to  her 
long  staff. 

Nahimen  was  comforted.  He  settled  down  to 
make  the  most  of  his  last  winter  with  his  daugh- 
ters. They  were  growing  wonderfully  in  every 
way,  their  spiritual  natures  were  developed  far 
beyond  those  of  girls  of  their  ages.  But  into 
the  midst  of  this  blissful  state  came  the  question 
as  to  whether  he  should  inform  the  girls  what 
was  to  be  done  with  them  when  Spring  came. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  147 

Should  the  news  be  broken,  or  wait  until  old 
Alliaquot  put  in  an  appearance?  What  if  the 
girls  objected  to  the  procedure  of  being  changed 
into  rivers  ?  Was  it  right  to  keep  the  facts  from 
them?  They  might  kill  themselves  or  run  away 
if  they  heard  it.  If  they  committed  self-destruc- 
tion, they  lost  their  souls;  if  they  ran  off  and 
drifted  into  evil  ways,  their  souls  would  be  de- 
stroyed.   Their  souls  must  be  saved. 

Yet  before  keeping  up  the  deception  longer, 
he  decided  to  consult  with  the  shade  of  Pecha- 
mawayo.  His  wife 's  spirit  at  once  told  him  that 
he  must  tell  the  girls  without  delay.  She  knew 
that  they  would  be  pleased,  they  had  beautiful 
souls,  the  idea  would  appeal  to  them.  They  had 
not  the  selfish,  earthly  idea  of  the  preservation 
of  the  individual  consciousness  at  any  cost,  they 
were  living  for  the  general  good  of  the  world, 
and  would  gladly  merge  their  souls  into  some 
grand  cosmic  purpose  like  a  river. 

This  high  estimate  of  the  young  women  was 
gratifying  to  Nahimen,  and  he  questioned  no 
more.  The  next  morning,  before  breakfast,  he 
called  his  daughters  about  him,  and  told  them 
what  their  mother's  spirit  had  prophesied,  but 


148  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

that  they  could  escape  all  the  horror  and  degra- 
dation by  being  changed  into  some  less  personal 
force.  He  mentioned  trees,  rocks,  streams,  add- 
ing that  he  preferred  the  idea  of  streams,  they 
did  so  much  good  for  the  world. 

The  daughters  accepted  all  this  talk  with 
equanimity.  They  were  very  sensible  beings, 
and  knew  that  their  mother's  spirit  spoke  from 
a  land  where  the  future  is  an  open  book.  But 
it  was  distressing  to  leave  this  beautiful  world, 
to  cast  away  their  consciousness,  which  enabled 
them  to  appreciate  the  wonders  about  them;  to 
become  instead  existing  but  unthinking  forms. 
But  as  rivers,  they  would  forever  help  life  and 
the  world,  it  would  be  a  noble  destiny,  it  was  a 
privilege  to  embrace  it.  But  Tya-dagh-tune, 
most  spirited  of  the  trio,  was  the  least  pleased. 

"Father,"  she  said,  "I  appreciate  that  your 
talks  with  our  mother's  wraith  have  revealed 
our  complete  destinies — what  you  have  heard  is 
very  terrible — it  seems  unbelievable  to  girls  of 
our  simple,  exemplary  lives — but  from  the  Infi- 
nite we  know  there  can  be  no  mistake — all  there 
is  an  actuality.  However,  if  we  are  to  become 
degraded  and  polluted,  will  we  not  become  so 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  149 

as  rivers,  just  as  we  would  be  continuing  in 
our  present  shapes?    Ponder  over  that." 

Nahimen  listened  attentively,  and  then  made 
reply.  "Your  words  show  great  sagacity,  Tya- 
dagh-tune,  but  I  cannot  believe  that  a  river  can 
become  degraded  or  polluted.  Think  of  the  fair 
land  it  must  flow  through,  the  forests,  fields,  or- 
chards, vineyards,  the  lowlands  grown  to  the 
water's  edge  with  blue  flags  and  reeds,  the  pas- 
toral people,  the  hunters,  the  wild  game,  the 
water-birds,  the  graceful  canoes,  and  the  silver- 
coated  fish  that  will  float  like  jewels  on  your 
bosom.  It  is  unthinkable  to  me.  Besides  your 
mother  said  that  an  evil  fate  could  be  prevented 
by  such  a  change."  Then  he  was  silent.  The 
fair  girls  bowed  their  heads  in  acquiescence. 
They  kissed  their  father  and  no  more  was  said. 
They  cheerfully  waited  for  the  coming  of  old 
Alliaquot,  who  would  change  them  into  three 
beautiful,  beneficent  rivers. 

The  winter  was  a  severe  one,  yet  it  passed 
quickly  for  Nahimen  and  his  daughters.  It 
passed  too  quickly  to  suit  the  father,  as  he  knew 
that  this  would  be  the  last  winter  he  would  ever 
pass  with  them  in  their  present  forms.  He  hoped 


150  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

that  the  snow  would  not  melt,  that  the  cold 
weather  might  continue  indefinitely.  But  the 
inevitable  thaws  came,  the  days  gradually  grow- 
ing warmer.  At  length,  came  a  day,  as  close 
and,  humid  as  midsummer.  The  sun  was  par- 
tially obscured  by  haze.  About  noon,  just  after 
the  girls  had  prepared  dinner,  he  noticed  an 
aged  woman  coming  up  the  path.  She  was  bent 
and  shrivelled,  and  helped  herself  along  by  lean- 
ing on  a  high  staff,  on  the  top  of  which  was  tied 
a  rich  spray  of  pink  Arbutus.  Nahimen  was 
overcome  by  conflicting  emotions.  The  woman 
who  would  save  his  daughters  from  degradation 
was  coming,  but  she  would  also  make  him  lose 
their  fair,  fresh  faces  forever.  The  girls  were 
calling  him  to  dinner,  but  he  sat  transfixed, 
watching  the  old  hag  draw  near.  When  she 
came  opposite  to  him,  he  got  up,  and  she 
stepped  forward  to  greet  him. 

"Nahimen,  you  are,  I  believe,"  said  the  old 
woman,  shaking  her  wet  head  and  holding  out 
her  bony  hand. 

"How  did  you  know  my  name?"  queried  the 
Indian  considerably  surprised. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  151 

"I  was  told  by  some  friends  in  the  unseen  to 
stop,  that  you  had  a  task  for  me  to  perform. ' ' 

'  *  Yes,  it  is  true, ' '  said  Nahimen,  ' '  But  won 't 
you  first  have  some  meat  with  us  ? " 

"No,  I  thank  you,"  replied  the  witch,  "I 
cannot  work  my  spells  on  a  full  stomach. ' '  Then 
she  wiped  her  wet  brow,  and  sat  down  on  the 
bench,  apparently  very  tired.  ''And,  please, 
good  Nahimen,  tell  your  girls  not  to  eat,  I  cannot 
work  my  spell  on  them  if  their  stomachs  are 
full." 

The  Indian  went  around  the  house,  to  where 
the  girls  were  bending  over  a  fire  cooking  corn- 
bread  and  told  them  that  they  must  not  eat. 

"Then  AUiaquot  is  here"  they  said  together. 

' '  She  has  come ' '  answered  the  father,  his  voice 
full  of  emotion.  He  beckoned  the  girls  to  follow 
him,  so  they  went  to  the  front  of  the  cabin  where 
the  old  woman  was  seated.  She  smiled  grimly 
when  she  saw  them;  it  was  the  smile  of  an  exe- 
cutioner. 

"What  beautiful  girls  you  are,"  she  said,  ad- 
dressing them  with  her  coarse,  gurgling  voice. 
Then  she  turned  to  Nahimen,  "I  have  come  a 
long  ways,"  she  said,  "I  have  a  long  distance  to 


152  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

go  to-night,  let  us  be  through  with  what  I  have 
to  do  here. " 

"Now — ^not  right  away?"  inquired  Nahimen. 

' '  The  present  moment  is  the  best  time.  "Where 
would  you  have  the  three  springs  which  \\dll 
form  the  three  rivers, ' '  she  said. 

"It  is  sad  that  this  must  be,  but  it  is  for  the 
best,"  answered  Nahimen.  "Right  iaear  my 
lodge-house,  where  I  have  lived  these  many 
years,  that  would  be  the  best  place." 

The  old  woman  rose  to  her  feet,  and  made  a 
pass  in  the  air  with  her  stajff.  The  clear  sky 
became  dark.  Drops  of  water,  tears  of  the 
clouds,  began  to  fall.  Nahimen  took  the  fair 
Allie-gay-nay  by  the  hand  and  led  her  to  a  se- 
questered nook,  old  Alliaquot  following.  When 
they  reached  the  spot  the  witch  placed  her  hand 
on  the  girl's  head.  The  rain  drops  began  to  fall 
more  heavily,  the  outlines  of  the  fair  girl  began 
to  liquefy.  She  became  transparent  like  a  ghost 
or  water-sprite.  Nahimen  stood  motionless  watch- 
ing her  fade  away.  Soon  she  lost  all  semblance 
to  human  form,  becoming  like  a  small  fountain 
or  bethesda.  She  speedily  became  smaller  and 
smaller,  and  then  spread  out  until  she  was  a 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  IBS 

sweet  spring,  purling  out  from  the  rocks  beneath 
a  giant  hemlock  tree. 

Then  the  old  woman  turned  and  led  the  dazed 
parent  back  to  the  lodge  house.  Arriving  there, 
she  took  Gay-nay-sayo  by  the  hand,  and  with 
Nahimen  following,  wandered  to  another  fair 
spot.  There  she  turned  the  maiden  into  a 
spring,  or  source,  as  she  had  done  with  Allie-gay- 
nay.  The  sight  of  his  second  daughter  lost  to 
him  was  a  hard  blow  for  Nahimen  to  bear.  But 
it  was  harder  when  he  saw  the  third  and  last  one, 
Tya-dagh-tune,  gone  from  him  forever.  Yet  in 
a  sense  he  had  triumphed  over  a  great  element 
like  Destiny,  he  had  saved  his  daughters  from 
becoming  the  prey  of  scheming  and  wicked  men. 

When  the  task  was  completed,  the  rain  was 
falling  in  a  perfect  torrent.  Nahimen  asked  the 
old  witch  to  spend  the  night  in  his  now  desolated 
home,  but  she  thanked  him,  and  said  she  must  be 
on  her  way.  She  had  to  cross  the  mountain  that 
night. 

After  a  night,  which  was  one  of  mingled  sad- 
ness and  triumph,  Nahimen  hurried  in  the  early 
morning  light  to  the  three  springs.  He  found 
them  sweet  and  pure.    When  he  bent  over  each, 


154  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

he  saw  the  faces  of  his  daughters  reflected  in 
their  limpid  depths.  They  were  not  gone  after 
all.  It  was  lovely  to  see  them  as  rivulets 
bubbling  over  the  rocks  and  running  into  brooks, 
which  gradually  swelled  in  volume  into  dancing, 
sparkling  torrents.  Fascinated,  he  followed 
them,  one  by  one,  as  they  bounded  over 
their  new-made  beds,  increasing  in  volume  and 
force  as  they  rushed  along.  The  three  girls  were 
now  the  three  rivers,  later  called  the  Alleghany, 
the  Genesee,  and  the  Tiadaghton.  Nahimen  lived 
at  his  lonely  lodge-house  many  years.  He  felt  the 
companionship  of  his  daughters-of-water,  as  at 
night  he  lay  on  his  couch  of  buffalo  hides,  listen- 
ing to  them  singing  their  joyous  lays  over  their 
mossy  beds.  They  seemed  so  happy  and  eon- 
tented,  that  he  rejoiced  at  his  foresight  in  saving 
them  from  pollution  and  consequent  misery. 
When  he  died,  at  the  age  of  a  hundred  and  ten 
years,  his  sorrowing  relatives  buried  him  on 
the  highest  point  of  the  mountain  on  the  "back- 
bone ' '  of  the  range,  near  where  the  three  springs 
rose. 

Years  passed,  possibly  several  thousand  years, 
and  the  three  rivers  amply  fulfilled  their  destiny 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  156 

of  cheer  and  helpfulness.  Free  from  pollution, 
they  were  a  benison  to  every  redskin's  heart. 
They  brought  prosperity,  comfort,  freedom  from 
care  to  all  who  lived  near  their  strand.  But 
then  the  white  men  came,  spreading  like  some 
cutaneous  disease  over  the  fair  face  of  mother 
earth.  They  levelled  and  burned  the  fragrant 
forests  of  pine,  beech,  and  hemlock,  they  killed 
the  Indians  or  herded  them  in  narrow  spaces 
called  reservations,  they  slaughtered  the  wild 
beasts  and  birds  without  mercy,  they  blew  the 
fish  to  atoms  with  their  dynamite,  they  trampled 
the  wild  flowers,  they  seemed  bent  on  making 
the  Black  Forest  a  scene  of  untold  gloom  and 
desolation.  They  erected  huge,  hideous  build- 
ings which  they  called  sawmills,  tanneries,  dyna- 
mite works,  acid  factories,  and  pulp-mills,  all 
along  the  three  beautiful  rivers,  the  Alleghany, 
the  Genesee,  and  the  Tiadaghton,  the  three  rivers 
which  were  once  the  daughters  of  the  sage 
Nahimen.  And  from  the  tops  of  these  unsightly 
piles  of  lumber  and  iron  poured  forth  foul  smoke 
and  vapor,  which  blackened  the  atmosphere,  and 
from  their  foundations  gushed  red,  green,  blue 
and  yellow  poisons,  called  waste,  a  stench  to  the 


156  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

air,  which  polluted  and  befouled  the  streams, 
making  black  sediment  on  their  bottoms,  killing 
fish,  and  making  the  water  unfit  for  use. 

And  the  three  fair  rivers  shrunk  with  wound- 
ed pride,  for  they  realized  that  after  all,  the  will 
of  the  Great  Spirit  could  not  be  thwarted,  even 
after  thousands  of  years.  They  realized  that  the 
efforts  of  their  good  father  Nahimen,  or  the 
Sailor-Down-the-Stream,  were  in  vain — their 
destiny  was  to  be  polluted  in  some  form  or  other, 
and  their  happy  songs  ceased  at  night.  Those 
who  hear  them,  now  say  that  their  singing  re- 
sembles a  dirge  as  they  turn  dirty  water  wheels 
of  foul  bubbling  fluid,  and  the  burden  of  their 
song  is  "Great  is  the  will  of  Gitchi-Manitto,  the 
Omnipotent,  who  takes  from  us  our  high  estate, 
but  we  submit,  we  are  resigned  to  pollution  and 
degradation,  as  it  proves  to  us  His  might,  great 
is  the  will  of  the  Maker  of  All  Things." 

The  few  Indians  who  remain  alone  care  and 
are  sad.  Often  they  drop  a  tear  into  the  turgid 
waters  of  the  now  shrunken,  odoriferous  rivers, 
which  sing  them  their  story.  From  them,  they 
realize  how  little  is  life,  how  futile  is  hope,  how 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 


157 


everything  is  nothing  compared  to  the  inexorable 
— where  ten  thousand  years  are  as  a  drop  of  wa- 
ter on  the  sands  of  time  and  three  rivers  but  as 
a  dream. 


VIII. 

A  STORY  OF  REGINA. 

(Another  Fragment  of  the  Popular  Legend). 

t  was  on  one  of  those  delightful 
trips  with  the  late  Thomas 
Simcox,  of  beloved  memory, 
that  the  writer  was  introduced 
to  an  old  gentleman  who  was 
able  to  furnish  another  word  on  the  subject 
of  Regina  Hartman,  thus  adding  to  a  legend 
which  is  to  Pennsylvania  folklore  what  Ticon- 
deroga  is  to  the  Scotch,  the  Headless  Horseman 
to  the  Germans.  On  this  occasion,  we  were 
tramping  to  Leetonia,  over  the  mountains, 
on  a  warm,  sunshiny  day  in  early  September. 
The  distance  seemed  further  than  anticipated. 
We  always  expected  to  see  the  little  lumber  town 
lying  at  the  foot  of  the  next  high  ridge  to  be 
crossed,  but  it  was  always  one  ridge  further  on. 
As  the  afternoon  drew  to  a  close,  the  sky  became 
paler,  but  more  faultlessly  blue,  the  trees  on  the 
summits  and  in  the  deep  hollows  where  the  sun 
158 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  159 

had  ceased  to  shine,  darker  and  more  distinct  in 
outline.  The  odor  of  the  pine  was  more  notice- 
able, and  also  that  damp  mossy  smell,  which 
exudes  from  brooks  which  flow  in  heavy  shade. 
The  tinkle  of  the  distant  cow-bells  was  the  only 
audible  sound  from  nature's  late  siesta.  On  the 
very  top  of  a  high  ridge,  which  rose  from  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  ravine,  separating  us  from  it, 
we  could  make  out  a  small  clearing,  apparently 
planted  with  buckwheat.  Upon  a  second  glance, 
we  noticed,  well  concealed  by  trees,  a  tiny  log 
cabin. 

"That's  where  the  old  prospector,  'Daddy' 
Portzline,  lives,"  said  our  companion. 

The  writer  ventured  that  though  it  was  an  in- 
spiring place  to  reside,  he  wondered  if  water 
would  not  be  difficult  to  obtain  on  the  comb  of 
such  a  bold  mountain  top.  The  old  mountain- 
man  smiled  and  said  that  it  was  as  the  Indians 
used  to  put  it,  "If  you  cut  your  head,  blood 
will  flow  just  as  quickly  as  if  you  cut  your  foot. ' ' 
Thus  it  comes  that  water  can  be  drawn  on  a 
mountain  top.  Our  road  led  across  the  ridge 
near  the  old  prospector's  home,  and  as  we  toiled 
towards  it,  perspiring  even  in  the  cool  air  of  the 


160  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

late  afternoon,  it  seemed  like  a  pleasing  place  to 
tarry  a  while  when  the  summit  was  gained,  be- 
fore climbing  down  the  mountain  to  Leetonia. 
With  this  beacon  ahead,  the  climb  did  not  seem 
so  hard  or  so  long.  Our  companion  had  pros- 
pected with  old  man  Portzline,  and  seemed  an- 
xious to  meet  him  again  and  renew  the  acquaint- 
ance. The  old  fellow  had  only  moved  to  the 
mountain  top  a  year  or  two  before,  having  gotten 
too  old  to  dig  for  the  hidden  treasures  of  the 
Alleghanies,  which  were  principally  fireclay, 
coal,  bluestone  and  marble.  Previous  to  that, 
he  had  boarded  with  different  families,  but  now 
when  past  sixty,  he  was  to  have  a  home  of  his 
own.  An  old-time  wolf  hunter  and  pigeon 
trapper  had  made  the  clearing  over  half  a  cen- 
tury before,  and  after  he  had  moved  further 
west,  it  had  been  occupied  by  divers  hunters, 
fishermen,  and  bark-peelers,  so  that  the  young 
growth  of  trees  had  not  been  given  a  chance  to 
overrun  it.  Several  of  the  old  prospector's 
friends  had  helped  him  put  it  in  order,  so  that 
the  work  was  not  greater  than  the  result.  All 
this  our  companion  was  recounting  as  we  toiled 
up  the  steep  path,  which  had  once  been  a  trail 


THE  PANTHER  CLIFFS 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  J 61 

road  for  logs  and  bark-teams.  The  higher  we 
climbed,  the  cooler  became  the  atmosphere,  so 
that  we  had  every  promise  of  a  refreshing  rest 
when  we  gained  the  top.  And  our  companion 
kept  repeating  that  there  was  a  very  cold  well 
by  the  house,  which  was  most  gratifying  after 
the  tepid  water  carried  in  our  army  canteen. 
When  we  emerged  into  the  clearing,  we  found 
the  old  prospector  sitting  on  a  dry-goods  box, 
beside  his  cabin  door,  smoking  his  corn-cob  pipe. 
He  seemed  to  be  musing  and  half-dreaming  over 
the  expansive  view  which  stretched  out  before 
him.  He  must  have  been  on  the  highest  knob, 
as  all  the  other  mountains  lay  below  him  in  the 
vast  panorama.  It  was  enough  to  make  anyone 
feel  content,  that  the  rest  of  the  world  was 
petty  and  very  far  away !  A  guinea  fowl  gave 
the  first  notice  of  our  approach,  but  the  alarm 
was  soon  taken  up  by  a  small,  shaggy  black  dog. 
Old  Portzline  looked  up  quickly,  and  seeing  us, 
smiled  brightly  through  his  rusty  spectacles, 
which  half  hid  his  keen  blue  eyes.  The  greeting 
between  the  two  old  men  was  of  a  most  cordial 
nature.    Portzline  seemed  overcome  to  think  that 


162  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

his  fellow  prospector  of  other  days  would  seek 
him  out  in  his  eyrie,  and  bring  a  friend  along. 

' '  No,  you  must  not  go  to  Leetonia  this  evening, 
you've  got  to  spend  at  least  one  night  with  me 
here.  I'd  tell  you  there  was  small-pox  down 
there,  rather  than  let  you  go, ' ' 

This  was  certainly  a  pressing  invitation  to  re- 
main, but  our  companion  waited  to  see  if  we 
cared  to  do  so  before  definitely  accepting.  When 
we  signified  our  intention  of  remaining,  there 
was  much  gratification  expressed  by  both  elder- 
ly men. 

Soon  from  the  little  back  kitchen  came  the 
savory  odor  of  frying  ham,  eggs  and  potatoes, 
and  the  sound  of  the  coffee-grinder.  The  two 
prospectors  conversed  together  in  the  kitchen, 
while  we  seated  ourselves  on  the  dry-goods  box 
to  enjoy  the  commanding  view.  Every  knob 
and  ridge  was  clearly  outlined  in  the  fading 
golden  light,  and  some  of  the  more  distant 
ranges  were  already  assuming  the  lavender  tint 
that  comes  just  before  the  dusk.  The  Bald 
Eagle  Mountains,  from  whence  we  had  come, 
showed  up  well  in  the  array  of  mountain  chains. 
We  need  not  be  ashamed  of  the  ''dark  and  som- 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  163 

bre  hills"  which  threw  up  their  proud  battle- 
ments so  close  to  our  home.  What  was  left  of 
the  Black  Forest,  stretched  like  a  black-green 
carpet  over  the  mountains  to  the  "West  and 
North,  its  limits  clearly  defined  by  the  light 
green,  or  browTi  slashings  on  the  ridges  nearer  to 
us.  Off  to  the  West,  Mount  Pipsisseway  was 
not  lost,  and  still  held  the  honor  of  being  the 
last  to  bid  good-night  to  the  setting  sun. 

As  the  sun  sunk  lower  to  the  confiding  moun- 
tain, where  it  would  at  length  hide  its  face,  a 
dry  chilliness  seemed  to  rise  from  every  draft 
and  ravine.  The  tinkle  of  the  cow  and  sheep 
bells  grew  louder;  we  could  hear  a  cow  bawling 
somewhere,  and  the  faint  echo  of  a  dog's  bark — 
like  an  excited  dog  does  when  chasing  cattle 
homeward.  But  these  sounds  were  very  small 
and  faint  compared  with  the  vast  expanses  of 
country,  where  all  was  steeped  in  evening's 
tranquility.  We  heard  a  single  birdsong,  a  wood 
robin's  "spray  of  bell-like  notes"  over  near  the 
shady  well.  A  lonely  grasshopper  set  up  a 
chirping  in  the  weeds  near  our  feet. 

Old  Portzline  came  to  the  door,  to  interrupt 
our  meditations,  with  the  news  that  supper  was 


164  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

ready.  And  what  a  good  supper  it  was !  Mem- 
ory carries  recollections  of  few  meals  through 
the  years,  but  this  was  one  of  those  that  is  un- 
forgotten  after  fifteen  years.  Oh,  joyous  days, 
when  we  never  knew  what  worry  was.  With 
more  developed  intellect,  we  are  happier  now, 
but  dull  care,  an  uncongenial  companion,  is  here 
to  remain  until  the  end. 

During  the  meal,  our  companion  took  pains 
to  explain  that  his  friend  was  much  interested  in 
the  history  of  Central  Pennsylvania,  and  es- 
pecially in  the  old,  unwritten  legends.  This 
seemed  to  please  Daddy  Portzline,  like  it  did 
most  aged  people  whom  we  met  in  those  days. 
Let  it  be  said  that  the  older  generation  in  the 
Pennsylvania  mountains  dearly  loved  and  were 
anxious  to  have  preserved  their  fast  vanishing 
folk-lore.  Thus  it  was  that  they  clung  to  and 
pasted  into  scrap-books.  Bibles  or  even  the  blank 
leaves  of  cook-books,  the  few  legends  which  at 
that  time  had  found  their  way  into  print — the 
stories  relating  to  Ole  Bull  and  his  castle,  the 
last  elk,  Cornplanter 's  Ring,  the  Bald  Eagle 
silver  mines,  and  the  like,  which  industrious 
writers  in  the  ''Grit,"  the  "Utica  Globe"  and 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  165 

other  widely-read  papers  turned  into  such  really- 
popular  stuff,  that  it  was  republished  so  many 
times  as  to  be  overdone.  The  writer  of  this  story 
was  criticized  by  one  country  newspaper  when 
his  first  little  volume  of  legends  appeared  eleven 
years  ago,  because  he  attempted  to  re-tell  some 
of  these  popular,  but  too  well-known  tales. 

The  old  prospector  went  on  to  say  that  he  had 
always  been  interested  in  history,  but  especially 
that  of  the  Indians.  He  had  been  born  in  a  little 
log  cabin  near  the  site  of  Pomfret  Castle  in 
Snyder  County,  where  in  the  ancient  days  one 
Hugh  Mitcheltree  had  been  carried  off  scream- 
ing and  yelling  by  six  Indians  in  the  presence  of 
a  well-armed  but  badly  scared  garrison.  His 
parents  were  natives  of  Schuylkill  County,  in 
the  Blue  Mountains,  and  his  mother  was  a  niece 
of  the  celebrated  Regina  Hartmen,  ''the  Ger- 
man Captive." 

This  was  wonderful  information.  The  story 
of  Regina  had  thrilled  our  youthful  heart  in 
school  days,  and  although  noted  historians  like 
Dr.  S.  P.  Heilman  and  Rev.  A.  Stapleton  have 
pretty  well  exploded  the  old-time  version  by  this 
time,  we  will  give  Daddy  Portzline's  account. 


166  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

firmly  believing  that  it  can  be  nothing  else  but  the 
truth.  We  showed  considerable  interest  in  what 
the  old  man  was  saying,  especially  when  we  told 
him  that  this  "captive  girl"  was  our  favorite 
heroine  in  all  the  romances  of  Pennsylvania 
history.  This  pleased  him  mightily,  and  he  arose 
from  the  table  and  went  to  an  old  cupboard 
which  looked  as  if  it  had  first  done  duty  in  some 
Snyder  County  farmhouse. 

Opening  the  glass  doors,  he  fumbled  about  in 
the  growing  darkness,  until  he  found  a  brown, 
wrinkled,  pasteboard-covered  book,  in  size 
probably  four  by  three  inches.  Opening  it  at 
the  flyleaf,  he  beckoned  us  to  come  to  the  door 
where  the  light  was  stronger.  We  quickly  fol- 
lowed and  he  held  the  book  so  we  could  see 
written  on  the  inside  of  the  front  cover,  in 
faded,  trembling  English  characters,  yellow  with 
age,  ^^Regina  Hartmann,  from  Anders  Boon, 
1769." 

"This  book,"  he  said,  holding  it  out  proudly, 
after  we  had  read  the  inscription,  "was  given  to 
my  great-aunt  by  her  lover.  Lieutenant  Boon, 
who  was  killed  at  the  awful  massacre  at  Fort 
Freeland  in  1779.    It  is  in  the  Swedish  language. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  167 

It  is  a  Catechism  of  Archbishop  Suebilius,  and 
though  it  has  no  date,  it  was  published  in  Stock- 
holm for  the  Swedes  in  Pennsylvania  probably 
during  the  early  part  of  the  Eighteenth  Cen- 
tury. It  does  not  seem  likely  that  Aunt  Regina 
spoke  Swedish,  or  that  Captain  Boon  could  very 
much  either,  but  he  came  of  the  Swedish  stock, 
that  settled  in  Eastern  Berks  County  at  a  very 
early  day,  and  the  little  book  was  more  of  a  love- 
token  than  a  brief  of  religious  instruction. 

"In  our  family  we  always  had  it  that  Daniel 
Boone  was  of  the  Swedish  race.  He  was  tall  and 
fair  like  the  Norsemen,  he  could  speak  Swedish 
and  German  like  a  native.  His  father's  real 
name  was  Sven  Boon,  English  historians  called 
him  'Squire  Boon' — but  I  know  differently,  be- 
cause I  came  from  the  old  stock.  Regina  Hart- 
man  was  kidnapped  by  Indians  in  1755.  Her 
father  and  brother  and  one  sister  were  killed  at 
the  time.  One  sister,  Mary,  was  kidnapped  with 
her.  This  girl  the  Indians  killed  for  some  un- 
accountable reason.  The  mother  and  sisters, 
Barbara  and  Margaret,  one  of  who  was  my 
grandmother,  escaped.  They  were  absent  from 
home  at  the  time. 


168  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 


"The  kidnapping  occurred  at  Hartman's 
Spring,  near  the  present  town  of  Orwigsburg  in 
Schuylkill  County.  That  story  of  Regina's 
being  rescued  out  of  a  line  of  captives  at  Car- 
lisle, by  her  mother  at  the  instance  of  Col.  Henry 
Bouquet,  by  singing  a  German  song  refers  to 
some  other  Regina.  My  great  aunt  escaped  from 
the  Indians  even  before  they  saw  that  they  were 
beaten,  and  was  escorted  home  by  a  friendly  In- 
dian named  Galasko.  She  was  eighteen  years 
of  age  when  she  came  home,  having  been  born 
in  1746.  She  was  blue-eyed,  blonde  and  very 
beautiful.  The  Indian  who  escorted  her,  was 
the  nephew  of  the  old  squaw  Talala,  or  White 
Cedar,  who  had  been  her  foster  mother  during 
her  captivity. 

"When  peace  was  declared,  he  was  on  friend- 
ly terms  with  the  Provincial  forces,  and  was 
trusted  with  his  fair  companion,  at  least  from 
Harris'  Ferry  to  Orwigsburg.  It  is  interesting 
to  learn  how  he  first  became  concerned  in  Re- 
gina. Old  Talala  treated  her  cruelly,  treated 
her  own  children  cruelly  for  that  matter;  she 
seemed  to  take  a  pleasure  in  hearing  them 
screaming.    She  beat  the  poor  white  girl  repeat- 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  169 

edly  when  she  failed  to  bring  into  the  village  a 
sufficient  quantity  of  berries,  nuts,  or  medicinal 
herbs  and  roots.  On  one  occasion  the  squaw  was 
maltreating  the  beautiful  girl  in  a  particularly 
brutal  manner.  This  was  too  much  for  the 
chivalrous  Galasko,  who  appeared  on  the  scene 
at  that  moment.  He  seized  the  ironwood  staff 
from  the  old  woman's  hand,  and  broke  it  across 
his  thigh.  In  the  excitement,  the  squaw  claimed 
that  the  young  warrior  had  knocked  her  down. 
This  he  stoutly  denied,  but  he  became  unpopular 
in  the  camp,  and  withdrew  to  the  woods  becom- 
ing a  wandering  hunter.  But  he  always  kept 
his  eye  on  Regina,  and  at  rare  intervals  met 
her  clandestinely  in  the  depths  of  the  forest, 
Talala  suspected  this,  and  made  her  own  daugh- 
ters spy  on  the  girl. 

"When  she  had  the  proper  evidence,  she 
confronted  the  girl,  who  was  the  very  soul  of 
truthfulness,  and  she  confessed.  For  this  she 
was  horribly  beaten,  and  kept  in  semi-captivity 
until  released.  Galasko  learned  the  story  from 
a  renegade  Indian,  who  was  about  the  camp  at 
the  time,  and  though  he  dared  not  put  in  an  ap- 
pearance, he  kept  within  an  easy  radius  of  the 


170  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

place  where  his  sweetheart  was  confined.  At 
last,  he  could  stand  the  suspense  no  longer,  so 
one  dark  night  he  broke  into  the  village,  mur- 
dering several  Indians  but  ultimately  making 
off  with  Regina.  He  placed  her  in  a  waiting 
canoe  on  the  North  Branch,  near  Nanticoke. 

' '  Two  months  later  peace  was  declared,  and  he 
at  once  journeyed  down  the  river  with  his  prize, 
and  handed  her  over  to  the  authorities.  He  was 
well-known  as  an  expert  shot,  and  a  thorough 
guide  in  the  wilderness,  consequently  his  ap- 
pearance was  greeted  with  friendly  acclaim. 
Previously,  in  Col.  Conrad  Weiser's  lifetime,  he 
had  been  praised  for  his  honesty  and  skill  in 
woodcraft,  consequently  he  was  no  stranger  to 
those  in  charge  of  the  Colonial  Headquarters. 
He  was  instructed  with  escorting  Regina  to  her 
mother's  home,  and  they  traveled  there  on  foot 
along  the  summits  of  the  Blue  Mountains. 

On  the  way  the  young  Indian,  who  had  always 
been  most  reserved  and  decorous  in  his  attitude 
towards  the  lovely  girl,  declared  his  love.  She 
told  him  that  she  had  loved  him,  if  not  from  the 
first  time  she  saw  him,  which  was  probable,  at 
least  from  the  day  when  he  had  first  interfered 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  171 

in  her  behalf,  when  she  was  being  roughly  treat- 
ed by  old  Talala.  She  would  marry  him  gladly 
if  her  mother  gave  her  consent.  She  had  good 
reason  to  believe  that  her  parent  still  lived,  and 
she  said  she  wanted  to  atone  for  her  long  absence 
by  some  years  of  devotion.  However,  she  had 
found  love  of  a  different  kind,  but  in  order  to  be 
fair  to  both  sides,  her  mother's  consent  would 
have  to  be  granted.  She  knew  that  if  she  mar- 
ried him,  she  would  have  to  go  away  with  him. 

From  German  people  with  whom  she  con- 
versed, she  had  learned  that  Indians  were  still 
very  unpopular  along  the  'Blauen  Bergen;'  an 
Indian  married  to  a  white  girl  would  be  sub- 
jected to  all  kinds  of  annoyances,  and  ostracism. 
Several  Indians  with  white  wdves  had  been  mur- 
dered by  Irish  boys.  Galasko  might  be  the  next. 
The  erstwhile  warrior  wanted  to  lead  a  peaceful 
existence,  besides  the  Blue  Mountain  country 
wiis  too  thickly  settled  to  suit  him  as  a  perma- 
nent abode.  He  would  risk  obtaining  her  moth-\ 
er  's  sanction,  and  if  obtained,  he  would  take  her  I 
into  the  wild  Sinneraahoning  or  'Stony  Lick' 
country,  where  few  white  men  had  ever  pene- 
trated.   On  their  way,  they  spent  a  night  with 


172  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

the  celebrated  Dolly  Hope,  widow  of  Dietrich 
Snyder,  who  still  lived  in  the  old  fort  which  was 
situated  at  the  very  summit  of  the  Blue  Moun- 
tain, above  the  present  town  of  Schubert.  It 
was  a  commanding  position,  giving  a  view  of  the 
Swatara,  Snyder,  Panther,  as  well  as  the  Tulpe- 
hocken  and  Schuylkill  Valleys. 

Dolly  Snyder  was  surprised  to  find  that  the 
long-absent  Regina  had  grown  to  be  such  an  at- 
tractive young  woman.  She  praised  her  for  her 
beauty  and  charm,  telling  her  that  she  should 
be  a  great  lady  like  her  name,  which  was  that 
of  a  queen  and  not  a  simple  backwoods  maid. 
She  told  how  old  'Mammy'  Hartman  hated  the 
Indians,  how  she  had  grieved  for  her  during 
her  absence,  and  that  when  peace  was  declared, 
the  good  old  soul  had  ridden  on  horseback  to 
Harris's  Ferry,  Reading,  Maxatawney  and 
Heidelberg,  asking  questions  and  scanning  the 
faces  of  returned  prisoners.  Regina  thought  it 
strange  that  no  one  at  Harris's  Ferry  had  men- 
tioned to  her  that  her  mother  had  been  there, 
perhaps  there  was  some  mistake  in  identity 
marked  against  her  on  the  records. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  173 

Dolly  Snyder  was  shrewd  enough  to  guess 
that  the  Indian  escort  loved  the  girl.  There  was 
fervor  in  her  voice  when  she  wished  the  young 
people  Godspeed  on  their  departure  in  the  morn- 
ing. Dolly  Snyder  lived  to  the  advanced  age  of 
one  hundred  and  fifteen  years,  and  her  grave  is 
not  far  from  Regina's  in  the  ancient  Lutheran 
Cemetery  in  Stouchsburg,  Berks  County.  When 
Regina  and  Galasko  reached  the  Schuylkill,  they 
had  a  practical  example  of  the  lingering  hostility 
against  the  redmen.  It  was  necessary  to  cross 
the  river,  which  was  much  too  deep  for  wading. 
An  aged  German  who  lived  on  the  bank  had  a 
neat  canoe  moored  in  front  of  his  cabin. 

The  girl  and  her  swarthy  companion  knocked 
on  the  door,  which  was  opened  by  the  churl,  and 
she  asked  him  politely  in  German  if  he  would 
ferry  them  across. 

The  German,  with  his  eyes  blazing  in  anger 
and  hate,  exclaimed,  'I  would  gladly  carry  you 
anywhere,  my  fair  girl,  but  no  damned  Indian 
shall  ever  ride  in  my  boat. ' 

Then  he  slammed  the  door  in  their  faces.  But 
the  wily  Galasko  was  undaunted.  He  told  Re- 
gina to  seat  herself  on  the  strand  while  he  went 


174  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

to  look  for  some  other  means  of  transportation. 
Several  hundred  yards  from  where  she  sat,  he 
found  a  pine  log,  which  had  been  washed  down 
the  stream,  and  was  held  by  some  projecting 
roots  into  which  it  had  drifted.  This  he  dragged 
to  where  the  girl  was  seated  and  told  her  to 
stand  erect  on  it.  Then  he  pushed  the  butt  off 
from  shore,  and  waded  out  after  it  until  the 
water  became  too  deep,  when  he  clambered  on 
board.  He  used  a  long  pole  to  guide  it,  and 
almost  before  they  knew  they  were  safe  and 
sound  on  the  opposite  bank. 

Then  they  climbed  the  high  mountain  on  the 
far  side  of  which  lay  the  fair  valley  where  the 
former  Hartman  home  had  been  located.  Dolly 
Snyder  had  told  Regina  that  her  mother  had  re- 
built on  the  site  of  the  old  house,  so  that  it 
would  not  be  hard  to  find.  It  had  stood  in  an 
open  clearing  which  could  be  seen  from  the 
mountains,  but  the  chief  landmark  was  an 
enormous  white  pine  tree,  or  as  the  Germans 
called  it  a  '  Bind  baura, '  which  shaded  the  cabin 
and  spring,  and  where  the  sweet-cooing  and  love- 
making  wild  pigeons  had  loved  to  roost.  When 
the  Indians  burned  the  e^bin,  the  tree  had  been 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  175 

badly  scorched,  but  its  vitality  was  such  that  it 
sent  out  fresh  green  needles,  and  apparently 
was  as  much  alive  as  ever. 

When  they  reached  the  broad  summit,  the 
familiar  view  brought  tears  to  Regina's  eyes. 
There  were  few  changes  in  the  past  nine  years, 
except  that  there  was  more  cleared  ground  in 
the  valley,  more  settlers '  houses.  The  picturesque 
"Red  Church"  which  had  been  burned  by  the 
Indians  before  Regina  had  been  carried  off  was 
replaced  by  a  new  and  larger  edifice.  The  giant 
old  pine  rose  in  his  accustomed  place;  in  the 
shadow  of  his  sheltering  branches,  could  be 
noticed  a  trim  log  house,  with  the  chinks  white 
plastered,  presumably  Mother  Hartman's  new 
home.  Regina  could  only  exclaim,  'Wash-ock, 
wash-ock,'  the  Indian  word  for  the  'green  tree.' 
She  had  learned  to  think  in  the  Indian  language. 

Many  conflicting  emotions  stirred  in  Regina's 
breast  as  she  gazed  on  the  scenes  of  her  youth. 
They  were  not  all  pleasurable,  and  she  took  her 
companion's  hand,  holding  it  tightly.  It  was  a 
benighted  existence  she  was  returning  to,  little 
better  than  she  had  left  in  the  Indian  village  on 
the  North  Branch,  except  that  her  mother  was  a 


176  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

kind,  Christian  woman.  But  the  girl's  sense  of 
duty  soon  asserted  itself,  and  she  realized  how 
her  mother  had  suffered.  Even  if  returning 
home  meant  sending  her  lover,  Galasko,  adrift, 
she  would  have  the  reward  of  a  satisfied  eon- 
science.  It  was  this  conscience  that  had  made 
her  long  to  see  her  loved  ones  again,  and  not 
drift  into  comparative  savagery  like  anoth/cr 
Indian  captive,  Mary  Jemison,  the  famous 
'white  woman  of  the  Genesee,  whose  bronze 
statue  adorns  Letchworth  Park  in  New  York 
State. 

A  cool  breeze  stirred  the  red  leaves  of  the 
gum  and  maple  trees  on  the  summit  where  she 
stood ;  it  was  like  a  signal  to  commence  the  last 
stage  of  her  journey.  At  the  foot  of  the  moun- 
tain, she  passed  through  a  large  field  of  Indian 
corn,  dry  and  ready  to  be  cut.  In  the  centre  of 
this  field  stood  an  ancient  white  oak. 
.  Regina  suggested  that  the  Indian  remain  there 
until  she  had  seen  and  interviewed  her  mother. 
It  might  be  disconcerting  after  Dolly  Snyder's 
warning,  for  her  to  enter  the  house  after  her 
long  absence  accompanied  by  one  of  those  hated 
redraen.    She  would  break  the  news  gently  that 


-■■  !,,# '>^;(  "a 


^Sd^ 


'>~?j 


w-^: 
^«» 


'MK 


.^"i 


^V 


■;|5  ii«*Mwlfa:_ 


f*^;v:.y      <.-^':i.,M 


'1  ^Jr^^-:^' 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  177 

she  wanted  to  marry  an  Indian,  and  if  all  was 
well  she  would  return  to  the  field  and  escort  the 
prospective   son-in-law  to   the   Hartman   cabin. 

The  Indian  thought  this  a  good  idea,  and 
squatted  down  at  the  foot  of  the  old  oak,  and 
drew  out  his  long  pipe.  Regina  kissed  him  good- 
bye. In  her  heart  she  knew  that  her  mother 
would  never  give  her  consent,  it  would  even  be 
hard  to  break  the  news  to  her  with  such  an  an- 
tipathy against  redskins.  But  the  first  and  only 
consideration  was  the  duty  she  owed  towards  the 
old  lady,  it  made  everything  else  seem  of  minor 
consequence. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  she  climbed 
the  ' '  Indian  fence, ' '  which  surrounded  the  Hart- 
man  clearing.  A  trail  of  blue  smoke  was  curling 
up  from  the  big  chimney,  indicating  that  supper 
was  being  prepared.  The  family  watch-dog, 
which  was  resting  under  the  great  pine  tree,  es- 
pied her,  jumping  up  and  shaking  himself,  and 
barking  angrily.  The  sound  of  his  barking 
brought  'Mammy'  Hartman  and  her  daughters 
to  the  door.  "With  a  quick  glance,  Regina  could 
see  that  her  mother's  hair,  golden  colored  when 
she  went  away,  was  now  snow  white,  she  looked 


178  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

like  a  woman  seventy  years  of  age.  At  first  it 
shocked  her,  but  then  she  realized  that  apart 
from  her  trials,  women  of  the  peasant  class 
aged  early  in  life. 

For  a  moment,  the  old  woman  could  not  iden- 
tify the  tall,  slim,  well-bred  looking  girl,  who 
was  coming  toward  her.  Suddenly,  she  uttered 
a  piercing  cry  in  German,'yMei  Lieber  Gott.' 
Then  she  called  to  the  dog  to  be  quiet,  and  ran 
forward.  Regina  and  her  mother  were  soon 
locked  in  a  loving  embrace.  They  were  both  too 
excited  to  go  indoors,  so  they  sat  down  on  the 
hewed  logs  which  served  as  door-steps  to  the 
cabin.  Mother  Hartman,  Regina,  Barbara  and 
Margaret  all  wanted  to  talk  at  once. 

There  was  much  weeping,  laughing  and  em- 
bracing. The  dog,  noting  that  something  un- 
usual was  in  progress,  made  apologies  for  his 
rudeness  by  crouching  at  Regina 's  feet  and 
licking  her  skirts. 

"When  the  first  flush  of  the  excitement  was 
over,  the  mother  held  the  girl  at  arm's  length, 
exclaiming,  "How  beautiful  you  are,  how  beau- 
tiful you  are,  you  resemble,  oh  so  much,  the  won- 
derful Countess  of  Falckensteyn  and  Bruck, 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  179 

whom  my  mother  admired  so  much  as  a  little 
girl.  Her  picture,  a  very  little  one,  was  the  only 
plaything  I  dared  bring  with  me  from  the  old 
country,  and  now  you  have  grown  to  be  like  her, 
my  ideal  of  loveliness." 

The  old  woman's  taste  was  correct,  for  Regina 
was  a  paragon  of  girlish  beauty.  Her  large  full 
eyes,  which  were  her  finest  feature,  were  grey 
in  color,  the  lashes  and  brows  black,  and  she 
always  kept  the  lids  half  closed.  Her  nose  was 
slender,  aquiline  in  contour,  her  lips  were  full 
and  red,  her  complexion  clear,  her  hair  ashen 
blonde,  her  slim,  erect  figure  easy  and  graceful. 
Peasant  girl  that  she  was,  suffering  and  high 
thinking  had  made  her  every  inch  a  noble  wo- 
man, physically  she  was  one  of  the  few  beings 
who  lived  up  to  her  soul. 

Supper  was  almost  forgotten,  but  at  length 
Regina  said  she  was  hungry,  and  it  was  hurried- 
ly gotten  ready  and  placed  on  the  slab-table. 
During  the  meal  Mother  Hartman  asked  Regina 
if  in  all  these  years  she  had  found  a  lover,  for 
early  marriage  was  the  rule  with  the  working 
classes.  The  beautiful  girl  flushed  a  guilty  red. 
She  looked  her  mother  full  in  the  eyes  for  a 


180  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

moment,  as  if  to  ascertain  how  she  would  receive 
the  news  that  she  was  about  to  break. 

"Yes,  I  have  a  lover,  a  splendid  young  man. 
He  is  waiting  even  at  this  minute  under  a  tree 
in  the  cornfield  until  I  have  asked  your  per- 
mission that  I  can  become  his  bride.  He  is  an 
Indian. ' ' 

At  the  word  "Indian,"  the  old  woman 
clutched  at  the  edge  of  the  table,  missed  her 
hold,  and  fell  against  the  water  bench  in  a 
swoon.  Regina  and  Margaret  picked  her  up, 
and  laid  her  on  her  couch.  They  fanned  her, 
threw  water  on  her  face,  until  she  recovered. 

When  she  opened  her  eyes,  she  looked  at  Re- 
gina saying,  "Is  this  what  you  have  come  home 
for,  my  darling,  to  tell  me  that  you  would  marry 
a  member  of  the  horrible  Indian  race,  who 
killed  your  father,  your  little  brother,  your  little 
sister,  burned  our  home  and  stole  our  belong- 
ings?" 

Regina 's  worst  fears  were  realized.  Sobbing, 
she  sank  down  on  the  floor  by  the  old  woman, 
and  threw  her  arms  about  her.  "No,  no,  no,  I 
would  not  give  you  more  unhappiness.  Much  as 
I  love  my  brave  and  handsome  Galasko  I  love 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  181 

you  more.  You  have  suffered  for  many  years, 
now  I  intend  to  make  you  happy.  I  will  send 
my  lover  away."  She  rose  to  her  feet,  and 
gazed  out  of  the  cabin  door.  It  was  almost 
dark.  ''Mother,"  she  said,  "I  must  go  to  the 
wood  and  send  him  away. ' ' 

Before  the  old  woman  could  restrain  her,  she 
was  gone.  Galasko  was  still  smoking  when  she 
returned.  He  took  the  news  philosophically.  It 
was  a  hard  blow  to  him,  yet  knowing  Regina's 
strength  of  character,  he  must  have  been  in  a 
sense  prepared  for  it.  But  before  they  parted, 
amid  tender  embraces,  the  Indian  lover  arranged 
to  meet  her  at  the  oak  tree  on  the  first  night  of 
the  new  moon  every  month.  Even  if  they  could 
never  marry,  they  might  continue  a  spiritual 
communion.  He  would  reach  the  trysting  place 
at  noon,  and  wait  there  until  she  could  slip 
out  unmolested,  probably  not  until  nightfall. 

The  Indian  did  not  go  many  miles  away.  He 
established  himself  on  the  summit  of  Broad 
Mountain,  which  at  that  time  was  a  rendezvous 
for  wolves,  and  commenced  trapping  them  for 
their  hides,  which  sold  for  a  shilling  apiece. 
There  were   many   traders   located   at   Harris' 


182  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

Ferry  and  Fort  Hunter;  he  could  support  him- 
self nicely,  and  yet  be  in  easy  traveling  distance 
from  his  beloved.  If  he  thought  that  sometime 
she  would  change  her  mind  and  leave  her  mother 
for  him,  he  dropped  no  intimation. 

Meanwhile,  Regina  settled  down  to  a  life  of 
worthy  purpose.  The  only  education  she 
possessed  was  taught  her  by  her  mother  before 
she  had  been  carried  off  by  the  Indians  ten  years 
before.  As  intimated  before,  she  had  almost  for- 
gotten the  German  tongue.  She  tramped  across 
the  Mountains  to  Tulpehocken  and  enlisted  the 
aid  of  the  Lutheran  preacher,  Reverend  John 
Nicholas  Kurtz,  in  her  efforts  to  educate  herself. 
He  loaned  her  German  and  English  books,  prin- 
cipally of  a  religious  nature,  and  she  set  about 
to  teach  herself,  to  master  both  languages.  She 
was  devotion  itself  to  her  mother  and  sisters, 
and  to  the  children  and  old  people  of  tl^e  neigh- 
borhood. 

When  the  time  rolled  around  for  her  to  meet 
Galasko  she  was  on  hand.  She  had  contrived  to 
obtain  the  privilege  of  going  to  the  mountain 
every  afternoon  for  her  mother's  and  some 
neighbors'  cattle.     On  the  way  she  passed  the 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  183 

oak  tree,  finding  the  philosophic  Indian  lover 
sitting  on  its  broad  roots,  smoking  with  charac- 
teristic stolidity.  There  was  an  affectionate 
greeting,  they  wandered  over  the  mountain 
slopes  until  dark,  rounding  up  the  cows.  They 
parted  at  the  edge  of  the  forest,  filled  with  pro- 
testations to  meet  the  month  following.  All  that 
winter  they  met,  and  the  following  summer 
clear  into  November.  It  was  becoming  harder 
for  both  to  part,  and  they  were  considering  bi- 
monthly meetings. 

In  November,  three  young  and  prepossessing 
looking  men  from  Exeter  Township,  in  Berks, 
stopped  at  the  Hartman  cabin  on  their  way  to 
Bear  Mountain  on  a  hunting  trip.  They  were 
named  Haakon,  or  "Hawkins"  Boon,  Anders 
Boon  and  OUe  Derickson.  The  Boons,  who  were 
cousins,  were  related  by  marriage  to  young 
Derickson. 

Anders,  who  was  tall,  fair  and  handsomest  of 
the  three,  immediately  fell  in  love  with  Regina. 
She  was,  he  declared,  the  most  beautiful  woman 
he  had  ever  seen.  The  next  morning  he  was  loath 
to  leave  her,  but  his  companions  urged  him  to 
hold  to  his  plans,  and  not  spoil  their  trip.    They 


184  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

persuaded  him  to  go  with  them,  but  anyone 
could  have  noticed  his  glumness  at  departing. 

Four  days  later  came  the  phase  of  the  moon 
which  brought  the  faithful  Galasko  to  the  oak 
tree.  He  arrived  at  the  appointed  time,  and 
sat  down  to  enjoy  his  accustomed  smoke  pending 
his  sweetheart's  arrival. 

Just  after  Regina  had  left  the  house,  Anders 
Boon  appeared  at  the  door.  He  had  become  so 
restless  and  unhappy  that  he  had  slipped  away 
from  his  companions,  and  returned  to  the  scene 
of  the  awakening  of  his  great  love.  Mother 
Hartman  told  him  that  her  daughter  had  gone  to 
hunt  the  cows,  and  pointed  to  the  path  leading 
to  the  forest  which  she  usually  took.  Bounding 
along  like  a  deer,  he  overtook  her  just  as  she 
climbed  the  fence  which  ran  along  the  edge  of 
the  woods. 

Regina  was  never  so  disconcerted  in  her  life 
else  she  might  have  conducted  the  affair  with 
greater  wisdom.  She  acted  politely,  and  even 
altered  her  course  so  as  to  pass  as  far  from  the 
oak  tree  as  possible. 

But  stoical  though  he  seemed,  Galasko  pos- 
sessed an  Indian's  eye  and  ear.    He  was  a  human 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  185 

eagle.  Also  his  acute  sixth  sense  told  him  that 
all  was  not  well  that  day.  Signs  had  come  which 
meant  bad  luck.  A  bird  had  flown  into  his  shack 
the  night  previously.  There  were  too  many 
bubbles  in  the  spring  where  he  drank.  "When 
he  heard  voices  conversing  in  low  tones,  he 
sprang  to  his  feet,  rifle  in  hand,  a  picture  of 
alertness  and  anger.  He  pushed  his  way  through 
the  crackling  grape  vines  and  hazel  bushes  to 
the  clearing  where  he  fancied  the  sounds  ema- 
nated, coming  face  to  face  with  Regina,  in  com- 
pany with  a  tall,  good-looking  white  man  with 
blonde  curly  hair.  His  rage  was  so  great  that  he 
could  have  shot  Anders  Boon  dead,  and  scalped 
him  then  and  there,  had  not  the  girl  by  a  deft 
movement,  twisted  the  weapon  away  from  him. 
Then,  in  German,  a  language  which  all  three 
understood  to  a  certain  extent,  she  introduced 
Boon  to  the  Indian. 

Galasko  controlled  himself,  and  the  fiendish 
blaze  died  out  from  the  surface  at  least  of  his 
grey  eyes.  He  shook  the  white  man  by  the 
hand,  exchanged  a  few  pleasantries,  then  turn- 
ing to  Regina  said  he  must  be  going. 


186  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

"Won't  you  help  us  hunt  the  cows  this  eve- 
ning?" she  said  to  placate  him. 

He  replied  that  he  had  to  be  off,  shaking 
hands  with  Boon  and  the  girl  once  more.  Turn- 
ing on  his  heel,  he  disappeared  among  the  pines 
in  the  gloaming,  with  hanging  head,  a  tall  and 
melancholy  figure. 

The  presence  of  this  Indian,  and  his  strange 
conduct,  brought  young  Boon's  love  to  a  'boiling 
point. '  On  the  hunt  for  the  cows,  he  proclaimed 
his  passion  in  words  even  more  fiery  than 
Galasko's  declaration,  Regina  listened  until  he 
was  finished.  They  stood  in  an  open  space  on 
the  mountain  top,  with  the  cows  bearing  their 
tinkling  bells,  clustered  about  them.  From 
above,  like  a  symbol  of  Galasko's  love,  shone  the 
new  horned  moon,  Astarte  of  the  Heavens. 

It  was  an  embarrassing  position  for  the  girl, 
but  she  told  the  young  man  that  she  already  loved 
the  Indian,  that  her  mother  had  forbidden  her 
to  marry  a  member  of  the  bloodthirsty  race  who 
had  murdered  three  members  of  their  family; 
she  had  decided  to  obey  her  parent,  but  she 
would  never  marry  anyone  else.     She  thanked 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  187 

the  youth  for  honoring  her  with  his  proposal,  but 
her  heart  was  another's. 

He  asked  her  if  there  was  any  chance  of  her 
changing  her  mind.  She  told  him  firmly  that 
there  was  not.  He  accompanied  her  home,  and 
helped  her  milk  and  stable  the  cows.  Then  sad- 
ly he  said  goodbye.  He  did  not  go  to  join  his 
hunting  companions,  but  started  for  the  East 
that  same  night.  He  would  tramp  until  morning 
to  starve  his  grief,  he  said. 

The  next  afternoon  Regina  revisited  the  oak 
tree,  but  there  were  no  signs  of  Galasko.  For  a 
week  she  looked  for  him  every  day,  but  he  did 
not  come. 

At  the  end  of  that  period,  she  met  at  the  tree 
a  strange  Indian  youth,  who  called  himself  Wap- 
ashah,  who  was  lolling  and  smoking  like  Galasko 
had  done.  He  told  her  that  he  had  been  sent 
there  to  deliver  a  message  from  one  who  had 
once  been  her  lover,  but  was  now  her  friend,  an 
Indian  warrior.  That  she  would  never  see  him 
again,  that  he  had  packed  his  belonging  and  was 
moving  far  into  the  Western  Country.  That  he 
knew  now  why  she  would  not  marry  him,  that  it 
was  because  she  had  a  white  lover.    That  he  for- 


188  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

gave  her,  but  all  was  over  between  them.  Then 
Wapashah  handed  her  a  small  piece  of  nugget 
gold,  saying  that  his  friend  had  found  it  in  the 
bed  of  Bohundy  Creek,  and  wanted  her  to  take 
it  as  a  last  remembrance. 

Regina  did  not  propose  to  lose  her  lover 
through  any  misunderstanding.  She  told  Wap- 
ashah that  it  was  all  a  mistake,  that  she  had 
only  met  the  white  man  less  than  a  week  before, 
had  only  seen  him  twice,  that  he  had  come  to  her 
unexpectedly  in  the  forest,  that  she  loved  'the 
Indian  warrior'  and  no  one  else.  She  begged 
him  to  meet  her  at  the  oak  tree  as  of  yore. 

Wapashah  shook  his  head,  saying  that  he  was 
afraid  it  would  be  too  late  to  give  the  message, 
as  his  friend  had  asked  him  to  wait  until  he  had 
been  gone  on  his  journey  for  seven  days  before 
visiting  Regina.  But  he  would  try  and  overtake 
him,  nevertheless.  He  believed  that  she  was 
telling  the  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth. 

Wapashah  started  away,  leaving  the  girl 
dumbfounded,  literally  stunned  with  grief.  She 
could  only  question  her  policy  in  not  having 
married  her  lover  in  the  beginning,  now  she  had 
lost   him   under   the  most   distressing  circum- 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  189 

stances.  But  she  brought  home  the  cows  that 
night,  singing  a  German  song,  and  outwardly  as 
gay  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

All  that  fall  and  winter  she  worked,  improv- 
ing her  mind,  in  addition  to  her  domestic  duties 
and  her  attendance  on  the  old  and  poor  who  re- 
sided in  the  valley.  She  never  missed  a  new 
moon  at  the  oak  tree,  but  Galasko  did  not  return. 
Either  Wapashah  had  not  overtaken  him  or  he 
had  chosen  to  disbelieve  her  plea  of  innocence. 

During  the  summer  she  received  another  visit 
from  Anders  Boon.  He  said  he  had  decided  to 
swallow  his  pride  and  come  again.  He  asked 
after  the  Indian,  and  was  told  that  he  had  not 
been  back.  But  Regina  told  him  frankly  that 
there  was  no  hope  for  anyone  else.  He  remained 
at  the  cottage  for  a  week  reading  many  books 
with  her,  including  John  Arndt's  'Paradise 
Garden. '  When  he  went  away,  he  said  he  would 
be  back  in  a  year. 

In  the  month  of  December,  Regina  received 
another  unusual  visitor,  a  young  artist  named 
Jons  Gostasson,  afterwards  known  as  Jack  Jus- 
tice, the  pupil  of  Benjamin  West.  Had  he 
lived  it  was  predicted  he  would  have  become  a 


190  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

second  Hesselius.  The  youth  said  he  had  come 
from  Swedeland  near  Philadelphia.  Anders 
Boon  ,  he  said,  had  sent  him  to  paint  a  miniature 
of  Regina  on  a  smooth  piece  of  Buffalo  horn. 
Boon  had  killed  a  monster  bison  on  one  of  his 
hunting  trips  on  the  Karoondinha,  where  these 
beasts  still  lingered  in  considerable  numbers,  and 
wanted  the  fair  German  girl's  lovely  features 
perpetuated  on  it.  The  picture  was  completed 
in  a  day,  and  the  youthful  artist  took  it  away 
with  him,  saying  that  the  young  huntsman  de- 
sired it  in  time  for  Christmas,  as  a  present  to 
himself. 

The  following  year  when  Boon  came  to  visit 
Regina,  he  showed  her  the  picture,  which  he 
wore  in  a  gold  locket  suspended  from  a  chain 
about  his  neck.  In  a  thoughtless  moment,  she 
allowed  him  to  cut  off  a  small  curl  of  her  golden 
hair,  which  he  fastened  inside  of  the  locket.  His 
visits  were  made  once  a  year,  generally  in  mid- 
summer. He  was  always  welcomed,  as  he  was 
bright  and  congenial,  and  never  afterwards  at- 
tempted to  win  her  from  her  plighted  troth.  He 
always  brought  presents,  mostly  books,  among 
them  the  Swedish  Catechism. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  191 

He  was  absent  on  a  hunting  trip  on  his  beloved 
Karoondinha,  when  the  Revolutionary  War 
broke  out,  and  hurried  over  to  the  West  Branch 
country  where  his  relative  Hawkins  Boon,  who 
had  become  a  land-owner  there,  was  a  captain 
in  the  Rangers,  Men  capable  of  taking  com- 
mand were  badly  needed,  and  Capt.  Boon 
dubbed  him  Lieutenant,  pending  official  orders 
from  headquarters.  The  similarity  in  names 
caused  the  two  men  to  become  confused  in  history, 
to  the  detriment  of  Anders  Boon,  whose  name 
cannot  be  found  in  the  military  records.  But 
he  made  a  brave  and  sagacious  leader,  doing 
most  of  Hawkins  Boon's  scouting.  The  two 
Boons,  Captain  Samuel  Dougherty,  and  their  men 
were  quartered  at  Boon's  Mill,  on  Muddy  Run, 
during  the  month  of  July,  1779.  There  seemed 
to  be  a  lull  in  the  hostilities  which  had  been 
going  on  between  the  permanent  settlers  on  one 
side,  and  the  Indians,  renegade  whites,  and  Eng- 
lish on  the  other. 

On  the  morning  of  the  twenty-ninth  of  July, 
the  garrison  at  Boon's  Fort,  numbering  about 
thirty-three  officers  and  men,  heard  firing  at 
Fort  Freeland,  about  seven  miles  away.    Com- 


192  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

manded  by  Captains  Boon  and  Dougherty  and 
Lieutenant  Anders  Boon,  the  garrison  hastened 
to  the  scene  of  the  conflict.  The  Indians,  led 
by  Hiokatoo,  later  the  husband  of  Mary  Jemison, 
and  the  ferocious  Galasko,  had  just  finished  the 
ransacking  of  the  surrendered  fort  and  the  tom- 
ahawking of  the  wounded. 

Captain  Ronald  MacDonald,  who  commanded 
the  English,  had  gone  down  the  river  as  escort 
to  the  women  and  children.  The  savages  had 
seated  themselves  to  enjoy  a  sumptuous  repast 
on  the  banks  of  the  creek.  In  the  midst  of  it, 
the  party  from  Boon's  Fort  surprised  them,  get- 
ting within  seventy-five  or  eighty  yards  of  the 
enemy,  without  being  discovered.  Each  man 
was  cautioned  to  take  sure  aim,  and  when  all 
were  ready,  at  a  given  signal  they  fired,  and  at 
least  thirty  of  the  savages  fell  dead  without  a 
moment's  warning. 

As  soon  as  they  could  re-load  they  crossed  the 
bridge  which  spanned  the  creek,  and  made  di- 
rectly for  the  fort  which  they  found  manned  by 
determined  Indians.  An  Indian  brave,  Machy- 
nego,  was  holding  the  flag,  and  was  shot  dead 
by  Captain  Dougherty. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  193 

Another  redman,  Galasko's  friend  Wapashah, 
took  the  flag,  and  had  no  sooner  got  it  erected 
than  Dougherty  dropped  him  as  he  had  the  first. 
Galasko,  who  was  standing  by,  grabbed  the  ban- 
ner from  the  dying  Wapashah  and,  brandishing 
a  rifle  in  his  other  hand,  dared  the  frontiersmen 
to  do  their  utmost.  Before  Dougherty  could  fire 
again,  he  was  shot  dead  by  Hiokatoo,  who  was 
standing  close  at  hand,  and  he  quickly  shot  Cap- 
tain Hawkins  Boon  who  took  the  place  of  the 
fallen  leader, 

Anders  Boon,  his  chance  to  command  having 
come,  ran  forward  with  a  shout,  his  fair  curls 
flying  about  his  hatless  head.  The  smoke  had 
cleared  for  an  instant,  and  he  stood  revealed  to 
his  hated  rival,  Galasko. 

"For  God's  sake,  hold  that  flag  a  minute,"  he 
called  to  Hiokatoo.  The  big  red  man,  not  know- 
ing why,  seized  it ;  as  he  did  so,  Galasko  fired  his 
rifle.  Anders  Boon  fell  dead,  shot  through  the 
heart. 

The  three  officers  dead  about  them  sent  the 
surviving  rangers,  numbering  about  a  dozen, 
into  a  panic;  and  they  broke  through  their  ene- 
mies, and  escaped  into  the  thickets.    Masters  of 


194  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

the  situation,  the  Indians  set  fire  to  the  fort,  and 
it  was  burned  to  the  ground. 

Then  the  scalping  and  robbing  of  the  dead 
bodies  commenced.  Like  a  human  eagle,  Galasko 
was  soon  bending  over  the  prostrate  form  of 
Lieutenant  Anders  Boon,  eagle-like,  tearing  out 
his  eyes  before  he  scalped  him.  He  ripped  the 
clothing  from  his  body,  preparatory  to  cutting 
out  the  heart.  Around  the  smooth,  white  throat 
hung  a  golden  chain,  at  the  end  of  which  was 
a  closed  locket.  The  excited  Indian  broke  it 
from  the  dead  man's  neck,  and  with  his  teeth 
pried  open  the  clasp.  The  calm  and  beautiful 
face  of  Regina  Hartman  looked  up  at  him ;  fast- 
ened across  the  picture  was  a  lock  of  her  pale, 
gold  hair. 

"By  all  the  gods,"  shrieked  Galasko,  "she  was 
false  after  all.  It  was  because  of  him  she  would 
not  marry  me.  That  message  she  sent  with  Wa- 
pashah  was  all  lies."  Then  he  proceeded  to  cut 
out  the  dead  man's  heart. 


IX. 

THE  DEATH  SHOUT. 

(A  Story  of  the  Senecas.) 

N  Canfield's  admirable  book  of 
Indian  legends  the  following 
statement  is  made:  "When  an 
Indian  is  dying  on  the  field  of 
battle  he  is  said  to  utter  a  cry 
or  'Death  Shout,'  which  is  heard  in  Paradise, 
and  serves  to  let  the  friends  whom  he  would 
meet  there  know  that  he  has  started  on  the  long 
journey.  In  addition  it  was  long  a  custom 
amongst  the  redmen,  particularly  the  Senecas, 
to  frequent  rivers  and  high  wooded  places,  or 
ravines  with  steep,  precipitous  sides,  where  re- 
verberations could  be  heard  for  miles  until  they 
would  die  away  in  the  distance.  Here  they 
would  stand  for  hours,  shouting  and  listening 
as  the  echoing  sounds  leaped  from  shore  to 
shore,  or  from  hill  to  mountain  and  from  moun- 
tain to  valley — on  and  on  into  silence;  always 
firmly  believing  that  the  words  were  called  from 

195 


196  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

one  to  another  of  the  faithful  spirits  until  they 
reached  the  ears  of  their  loved  ones  and  finally 
the  Great  Spirit  himself." 

It  was  in  the  breaking  of  a  log  jam,  in  the 
spring  of  1864,  at  the  mouth  of  Moshannon 
Creek,  that  a  young  Indian  riverman  named 
Billy  Steele  was  killed.  He  was  carried  out  of 
sight  so  quickly  that  he  was  barely  missed  by 
his  comrades.  He  was  a  youth  of  rare  promise, 
and  none  felt  his  untimely  end  more  keenly  than 
old  Isaac  Steele,  his  father,  who  was  working  not 
thirty  feet  from  him  when  he  was  sucked  under 
by  the  whirlpool  of  logs  and  water.  The  jam 
was  caused  by  a  sudden  freshet  in  the  Moshan- 
non driving  out  a  lot  of  logs  which  had  been 
piled  on  its  banks  into  a  score  of  timber  rafts 
that  were  moored  in  the  West  Branch,  a  short 
distance  below  its  confluence  with  the  Moshan- 
non. 

The  evening  after  the  disaster  one  of  the  rafts- 
men had  occasion  to  go  some  distance  up  the 
Moshannon  to  a  friend's  cabin  and  was  sur- 
prised to  find  old  Isaac  Steele  standing  on  a 
large  rock  in  the  bed  of  the  stream, — the  rock 
is  known  to  this  day  as  the  "Rivermen's  Tor- 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  197 

ment,"  as  more  than  one  raft  came  to  grief 
against  it.  The  Indian,  who  was  alone,  was 
shouting  loudly  and  listening  to  the  echoes  which 
at  first  came  back  to  him,  and  then  were  carried 
into  the  very  depths  of  the  hemlock-covered 
mountains  which  lined  the  shores.  With  a  clear, 
resonant  voice,  yet  mixed  with  sadness,  he  sent 
echo  after  echo  through  space  until  the  entire 
wilderness  reverberated  with  the  tones  of  an- 
guish. The  riverman  knew  enough  of  the  In- 
dians' ways  to  surmise  that  it  was  some  religious 
exercise,  and  drew  back,  allo'^Aang  him  to  con- 
tinue his  shouting  unmolested.  But  he  was  anx- 
ious to  know  the  meaning  of  it,  and  waited  his 
opportunity  to  inquire. 

It  happened  that  the  Indian  was  to  ride  on 
the  same  raft  of  which  this  particular  riverman 
was  the  pilot,  and  on  the  journey  to  Marietta 
the  chance  for  enlightenment  presented  itself. 
Some  very  warm  weather  set  in  and  when  the 
raft  was  moored  at  night  time  in  comfortable 
eddies,  the  crew  decided  that  it  was  too  warm  to 
go  to  the  taverns,  so  they  slept,  wrapped  in  thin 
blankets,  on  the  deck.  It  was  on  one  of  these 
nights,  when  the  raft  was  tied  up  at  Hummel's 


198  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

Wharf,  when  it  was  uncomfortably  warm  for 
sleeping  that  the  pilot  and  the  Seneca  became 
confidential,  and  the  reasons  for  the  mysterious 
shouting  were  revealed. 

The  old  redman  said  that  his  son  had  died  so 
unexpectedly  that  the  poor  boy  did  not  have  a 
chance  to  acquaint  his  friends  in  Paradise  of 
his  coming.  It  would  be  hard  to  arrive  from 
the  journey  which  was  a  long  and  arduous  one, 
with  nobody  to  meet  him  at  the  crystal  gates.  He 
hoped  that  the  shouts  which  he  had  given  vent 
to  on  the  evening  of  the  accident  would  reach 
the  Land  of  Shades  before  the  arrival  of  his 
son's  spirit.  Sometimes  the  journey  took  only 
a  few  days,  but  in  other  cases,  the  suddenly  de- 
ceased souls  lost  their  way,  and  were  months 
finding  the  Promised  Land. 

There  were  many  strange  stories  clustered 
about  the  "Death  Shout,"  some  of  them  beauti- 
ful, others  painfully  sad.  He  would  tell  one 
which  his  old  grandmother  had  loved  to  repeat 
when  he  was  a  little  boy  and  lived  in  a  hunting 
camp  in  the  heart  of  the  Black  Forest.  It  was 
a  story  of  the  days  when  the  world  was  new  and 
the  Indians  had  not  lost  the  personal  interest  of 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  199 

the  Great  Spirit  by  frequent  acts  of  disobedience 
and  indifference. 

In  those  days  there  was  a  certain  brave  young 
warrior  and  hunter, — he  had  more  human  scalps 
and  panthers'  teeth  on  his  belt  than  any  man, 
old  or  young,  in  his  clan.  His  name  was  Macha- 
tachten,  or  The  Coal  of  Fire.  With  his  tall  and 
graceful  figure,  his  gentle  voice,  and  flashing 
grey  eyes  he  could  have  had  the  love  of  any  wo- 
man he  wished  for.  But  his  heart  only  beat  for 
one  Indian  maid,  the  beautiful  Sabeleua,  or  Sun- 
light on  the  Water.  This  great  affection  was 
fully  reciprocated  and  in  due  course  of  time  they 
were  married.  Sabeleua 's  character  was  as  fully 
developed  as  her  husband's,  consequently  they 
were  able  to  appreciate  ane  another. 

The  fair  bride  predicted  that  Machatachten 
would  rise  to  become  the  greatest  Indian  who 
had  ever  lived.  In  this  many  wise  men  agreed. 
He  seemed  to  be  the  favored  one  of  the  Great 
Spirit.  Despite  all  the  flattering  words  he  heard, 
the  young  warrior  listened  mostly  to  the  encour- 
agements of  his  bride.  He  believed  in  her  judg- 
ment above  that  of  all  other  persons;  it  over- 
joyed him  to  feel  that  she  looked  upon  him  as 


200  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

a  coming  man.  To  uphold  her  confidence  he 
indulged  in  many  feats  of  daring,  both  in  the 
chase  and  in  war.  In  the  midst  of  all  this  hap- 
piness the  fair  bride  was  seized  with  a  swamp 
fever,  and  despite  all  that  could  be  done  for  her, 
she  passed  away.  Machatachten  's  grief  was  piti- 
ful to  witness. 

Strong  man  that  he  was,  he  was  bowed  to  the 
earth  by  this  sudden  affliction.  It  was  like  a 
bolt  from  a  clear  sky.  The  wise  men  who  had 
predicted  so  much  for  him  in  the  future  came 
to  offer  their  condolences.  They  were  turned 
away  from  the  warrior's  lodge  house,  Machtach- 
ten  telling  them  that  their  predictions  of  ma- 
terial triumphs  were  of  no  use ;  now  that  he  had 
lost  his  love  and  helpmate,  he  had  no  belief  in 
makers  of  false  promises. 

After  awhile  he  realized  that  this  moping  in 
his  cabin  was  no  way  for  a  brave  man  to  act,  it 
would  be  best  to  enter  earnestly  into  warfare, 
to  strike  blow  after  blow  at  the  corruption  of 
the  world,  and  if  he  fell  he  would  join  his  wife's 
spirit  in  the  Paradise  as  a  brave  soul,  and  not 
as  one  who  had  grieved  himself  into  the  grave. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  201 

So  he  emerged  from  his  retirement  and  gath- 
ered an  intrepid  band  of  warriors  about  him. 
They  travelled  to  distant  parts  of  the  country 
putting  down  oppression,  injustice,  wrong,  vice 
and  crime.  They  were  always  victorious,  al- 
though they  incurred  the  hatred  of  many  chiefs 
who  feared  the  existence  of  an  aggregation  of 
skilled  warriors  dedicated  to  such  lofty  purposes. 
It  was  in  one  of  those  periods  in  Indian  history 
when  there  was  much  corruption  and  enervation, 
consequently  the  awakening  of  a  new  Spartan 
spirit  was  viewed  with  disfavor  by  those  who 
profited  by  human  weakness.  Yet  the  most  ap- 
palling feature  was  the  unbroken  series  of  vic- 
tories which  the  band  of  Spartans  achieved.  In 
a  year  they  had  dethroned  and  killed  fifty  tyran- 
nical or  corrupt  Indian  kings,  and  added  vast 
stretches  of  territory  to  the  dominions  of  old 
Magoochagook,  or  Copper-Head-Snake,  in  whose 
realm  Machatachten  and  his  band  resided. 

At  first  the  aged  chief  viewed  the  warfare  of 
the  intrepid  young  warrior  with  pleasurable 
sensations.  He  publicly  commended  him  and 
loaded  him  with  gifts.  He  raised  his  rank  of 
nobility  next  to  that  of  royalty.    He  had  games 


202  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

and  feasts  given  in  his  honor.  But  as  time  went 
on  he  began  to  fear  that  Machatachten  was  be- 
coming more  popular  than  himself,  and  above 
aU  more  esteemed  than  his  son  and  heir,  And- 
hannai,  or  the  Bull  Frog.  This  youth  was  giveu 
over  to  luxury  and  viciousness,  and  possessed 
more  vulnerable  points  than  many  of  the  chief- 
tains whom  Machatachten  had  overthrown.  The 
old  King  nursed  his  fears  privately  for  a  while, 
then  he  confided  them  to  his  council  of  wise  men, 
who  in  turn  suggested  that  the  sothsayers  be 
called  in.  The  medicine  men  shook  their  heads 
sadly,  saying  that  Magoocagook 's  suspicions 
were  only  too  true.  Machatachten,  they  said, 
was  insincere,  that  he  was  only  seeking  after 
notoriety,  that  his  ultimate  desire  was  to  over- 
throw Magoochagook 's  dynasty,  and  rule  in  his 
stead. 

They  advised  the  King  to  immediately  order 
the  disarmament  of  the  young  warrior  and  all 
his  followers.  But  it  was  the  soothsayers  who 
were  insincere;  they  colored  their  report  to  suit 
their  King,  though  in  their  hearts  they  believed 
in  Machatachten.  The  King  was  delighted  at 
the  result  of  his  appeal  to  the  seers  into  the  sha- 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  203 

dowy  world.  He  lost  no  time  in  issuing  a  procla- 
mation ordering  the  warrior  and  all  his  band 
to  assemble  in  a  deep  ravine  on  an  appointed 
day,  and  give  up  all  their  arms  to  the  royal 
bodyguard.  The  place  where  this  was  to  be  car- 
ried out  was  at  the  foot  of  the  War  Path,  so 
called  from  this  episode,  on  Kettle  Creek,  in  the 
Black  Forest.  Machatachten  was  surprised  at 
this  order,  but  he  was  first  of  all  a  loyal  subject, 
and  did  not  question.  Some  of  his  followers 
were  almost  rebellious  when  they  were  told  that 
they  must  lay  down  their  arms  and  fight  no 
more,  but  he  quieted  them  with  his  dominant 
will. 

Marshalling  them  together,  he  marched  them 
single  file  along  the  War  Path,  meeting  the  rep- 
resentatives of  the  King,  who  were  drawn  up 
along  the  banks  of  the  creek,  in  the  early  morn- 
ing. Machatachten  saluted  and  advanced  for- 
ward, giving  over  his  spears,  arrows,  scalping 
knives  and  deer  skinners.  Then  the  chief  repre- 
sentative of  the  King  commanded  the  unarmed 
warriors  to  form  themselves  into  a  circle,  with 
their  leader  in  the  centre.    When  in  this  posi- 


204  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

tion  the  royal  guard  quickly  withdrew  into  the 
forest. 

While  standing  thus  defenseless,  yet  feeling 
perfect  confidence  in  the  honor  of  royalty,  a 
cruel  fusillade  of  poisoned  arrows  rained  down 
from  the  tops  of  the  hemlock-covered  mountains 
which  overhung  the  ravine.  Among  the  first  to 
go  down  was  the  brave  Machatachten,  pierced 
through  the  jugular  vein.  As  he  fell,  he  had 
presence  of  mind  enough  to  give  the  Death 
Shout.  What  had  been  a  few  minutes  before  a 
sea  of  happy  faces,  was  now  a  bloody  charnel 
house.  The  entire  band  having  been  apparently 
slain,  the  executioners  proceeded  to  scalp  the 
victims.  Machatachten 's  body  was  the  first  ap- 
proached. It  was  still  warm,  but  the  heart  had 
ceased  beating;  there  was  no  flow  of  blood  ap- 
parent. The  barbarous  Indians  tore  the  scalp 
from  the  head,  and  then  stamped  on  the  pros- 
trate form  before  they  passed  on  to  the  next 
corpse. 

Within  an  hour  two  hundred  scalps  were  col- 
lected, and  placed  in  pouches  made  from  pan- 
ther skins.  The  leader  took  the  pouches,  and 
followed  by  his  murderous  crew,  started  for  the 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  205 

royal  pavilion  on  the  shores  of  Tiadaghton 
Creek.  All  da}'-  long  the  bodies  of  Machatach- 
ten  and  his  mutilated  followers  lay  in  the  broil- 
ing sun  on  the  greensward  by  the  creek-side. 
The  flow  of  warriors'  blood  pouring  into  the 
water,  dyed  it  a  lurid  red.  Meanwhile  the  Death 
Shout  which  the  brave  youth  uttered  was  re- 
verberating from  ravine  to  ravine,  from  moun- 
tain to  mountain,  rising  higher  and  higher,  clear- 
er and  clearer,  until  it  reached  the  clouds,  and 
was  wafted  through  them  to  the  Land  of  Eternal 
Sunshine,  where  the  souls  of  the  happy  and  the 
brave  exist  forever  in  unclouded  bliss. 

A  strange  shadow  passed  over  Sabeleua's  hap- 
piness there  in  Paradise;  with  cosmic  intuition 
her  first  thought  was  of  her  husband  in  the  ter- 
restrial world.  Then  came  the  last  expiring 
echo  of  the  Death  Shout.  Following  it  back 
through  blue  ether,  atmosphere,  cloud  masses, 
mountain  peaks,  forest-clad  ravines,  rocks,  riv- 
ers and  streams,  to  its  source,  she  found  her  be- 
loved warrior  lying  in  the  growing  sunlight,  his 
life's  blood  ebbing  away.  Around  him  lay  the 
bodies  of  his  faithful  followers,  all  dead  or  dy- 
ing.   It  was  a  horrible  sight,  one  not  often  seen 


206  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

by  the  calm  dwellers  in  the  bosom  of  the  infinite. 
Summoning  all  her  psychic  strength  she  breath- 
ed on  the  gaping  wound  in  Machatachten  's  neck. 
Like  magic  it  closed  together,  becoming  perfect- 
ly dry.  Even  as  she  did  so,  the  cruel  band  of 
murderers  emerged  from  the  thickets,  making 
the  heroic  leader,  whose  wound  had  ceased  to 
flow,  the  first  victim  of  their  scalping  lust. 

This  was  too  much  for  Sabeleua  to  bear.  She 
sought  to  strike  the  scalpers'  hands  with  palsy, 
but  not  being  divinity,  was  powerless.  She  could 
aid  the  injured,  but  the  well  were  too  full  of 
world-strength  to  affect.  So  she  was  compelled 
to  witness  the  mutilation  of  her  handsome  Mach- 
atachten. When  all  the  prostrate  forms  had  been 
scalped  and  roughly  used,  the  fiends  in  human 
form  withdrew,  wildly  anxious  to  hurry  the  good 
tidings  to  their  monarch  Magoochagook.  Left 
alone  with  her  beloved,  Sabeleua  formed  a  heav- 
enly shadow  over  him  to  protect  him  from  the 
broiling  heat  of  the  summer  day. 

All  day  long  she  brooded  over  him,  his  wound 
still  remaining  sered,  while  she  breathed  her 
spiritual  force  into  his  dry,  grey  lips.  When  at 
length  the  sun  lost  its  fury,  and  sunfiet  redder 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  207 

than  warriors'  blood  threw  its  rays  upon  the 
creek,  the  form  of  Maehatachten  began  to  twitch 
and  coil  itself.  Then  the  long,  sinewy  arms 
stretched  themselves  out,  the  fingers  clenched, 
flowing  blood  was  noticeable  in  the  blue  veins. 
The  head  raised  itself  several  times,  the  lips 
twitched,  and  assumed  a  less  ashen  hue.  Lastly 
the  eyes  opened,  staring  about  blankly,  while 
more  depth  came  into  them. 

At  length  the  figure  started  to  arise,  awkward- 
ly it  seemed,  like  a  new-born  colt  getting  on  its 
feet  for  the  first  time.  After  a  few  efforts  equi- 
librium was  found,  and  the  warrior  rose  to  his 
full  height,  which  was  several  inches  over  six 
feet.  He  stretched  his  arms  again,  yawned,  and 
re-opened  his  eyes ;  Maehatachten  had  apparent- 
ly risen  from  the  dead.  A  cool  evening  breeze 
blew  in  his  face,  and  swept  his  dark,  woven  cloak 
about  his  legs.  Consciousness  seemed  to  come 
back  with  that  zephyr,  for  he  looked  about  him, 
as  if  waking  from  a  dream.  Then  his  eyes  fell 
on  the  piles  of  dead  and  mutilated  corpses,  and 
instinctively  he  put  his  hand  to  his  head.  In- 
stead of  the  shock  of  straight,  stiff  hair,  he  was 
completely  bald,  and  the  top  of  his  skull  was 


208  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

rough  and  smarted  at  his  touch.  The  realization 
came  to  him  that  he  too  had  been  scalped,  and 
that  an  hour  before  he  had  lain  as  dead  among 
his  henchmen.  He  shed  tears  for  the  brave  fel- 
lows who  were  no  more,  and  were  it  not  so  dark, 
he  could  have  searched  for  the  remains  of  a  few 
who  were  particularly  dear  to  him. 

He  looked  out  on  the  glimmering  waters  of 
the  creek,  on  which  a  solitary  star  was  shining. 
It  gave  such  a  long,  trailing,  quavering  reflec- 
tion that  it  was  almost  human  in  its  proportions. 
He  gazed  at  it  as  if  transfixed,  until  he  fancied 
he  saw  the  face  and  form  of  the  long-absent  Sa- 
beleua,  but  she  was  as  translucent  as  starlight. 
He  was  so  astounded  to  see  her  that  his  speech 
returned  to  him,  and  he  asked  if  she  was  not  the 
beneficent  spirit  who  had  saved  his  life.  He  had 
sent  her  the  Death  Shout  when  the  poisoned  ar- 
row pierced  his  throat.  From  her  presence  this 
night,  he  was  certain  that  she  had  heard  it  and 
closed  the  wound  and  stopped  the  fatal  flow. 

But  Sabeleua's  only  answer  was  a  nodding  of 
the  head,  the  quintessence  of  starlight  on  even- 
ing waters.  Machatachten  knew  and  understood. 
He  aski&d  her  if  she  had  saved  him  for  some  pur- 


TELLING  A  PANTHER  STORY 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  209 

pose,  otherwise  might  it  not  have  been  happier 
for  them  both  if  he  had  died  and  joined  her  at 
once  in  Awossagame,  or  Heaven.  Then  a  breeze 
stirred  the  great  hemlocks  which  grew  along  the 
stream.  They  swayed  and  twisted,  and  shook 
their  shaggy  boughs  until  they  seemed  to  simu- 
late the  human  voice. 

At  length  Machatachten  made  out  these 
words :  ' '  Yes,  my  beloved,  you  have  a  mission  in 
this  world.  You  cannot  leave  here  until  it  is 
fulfilled.  You  must  become  King  of  all  the  red- 
men  who  live  east  of  the  great  lakes  and  the 
boundless  plains.  Rise  on  Magoochagook,  hurl 
him  from  power,  and  you  will  be  the  greatest 
and  godliest  ruler  our  people  have  ever  known. ' ' 

Then  the  rustling  of  the  giant  branches  ceas- 
ed, and  the  glimmering  star,  Machatachten 's 
star  of  destiny,  vanished  from  the  waters;  all 
was  the  overpowering  stillness  of  the  mountain 
night. 

Then  came  a  great  illumination  to  his  soul. 
He  saw  everything  clearly,  as  in  a  flash  of  light- 
ning. His  mission  was  revealed  to  him  in  the 
dizzy  glare.  Looking  down  for  an  instant  he 
saw  a  scalping  knife,  which  one  of  Magoocha- 


210  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

gook's  retainers  had  left  behind,  lying  at  his 
feet.  He  stooped  and  picked  it  up,  then  with 
rapid  strides  cleared  the  tangled  mass  of  bodies, 
and  started  for  the  "War  Path. 

Though  it  was  dark  night,  the  light  in  his 
soul  was  such  that  he  saw  the  way  clearly.  The 
steep  path  was  part  of  his  destiny.  Just  at  day- 
break he  encountered  a  handsome  youth,  bound 
for  the  depths  of  the  Black  Forest  on  a  hunting 
trip.  Machatachten  drew  his  scalping  knife, 
quickly  stabbing  the  youth  through  his  jugular 
vein.  Without  a  word,  he  sank  to  the  earth,  ex- 
piring in  a  pool  of  blood.  This  young  hunter 
gave  up  his  life  as  an  instrument  of  Machatach- 
ten's  fate.  The  inspired  warrior  scalped  the 
dead  man  and  placed  the  heavy  shock  of  hair  on 
the  still  sore  and  bleeding  top  of  his  own  head. 
Now  he  felt  that  he  looked  like  his  old  self  again. 
The  wound  in  his  throat  had  healed,  he  was 
filled  with  more  purpose  and  strength  than  ever 
before. 

It  was  shortly  after  noon  when  he  approached 
Magoochagook's  pavilion,  near  where  upper 
Trout  Run  empties  into  Tiadaghton.  The  same 
b6<Jyguii«d  wtdch  had  mtatiwdd  the  Ifra-ve  little 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  211 

band  the  day  before  were  on  duty  outside  the 
regal  lodge-house.  When  they  saw  the  stalwart 
and  living  form  of  the  warrior  whom  they  were 
sure  they  had  killed  and  scalped,  they  fell  on 
their  knees,  trembling  with  terror.  Machatach- 
ten  advanced  through  their  lines  to  the  door  of 
the  King's  abode.  The  old  monarch  and  his  son 
were  sitting  within,  smoking  peacefully  after 
their  midday  feast.  Near  them,  on  a  carpet  of 
panther  hides  were  a  number  of  bloody  scalps — 
supposedly  those  of  Machatachten  and  his  fol- 
lowers. 

As  the  brave  from  the  land  of  slain  appeared 
before  them,  some  impulse  caused  the  royal  pair 
to  look  up.  Both  gave  agonized  shrieks  of  ter- 
ror, and  prostrated  themselves  on  their  faces 
before  him,  saying:  "Oh,  thou  who  art  risen 
from  the  dead,  take  pity  on  us,  spare  us,  for  now 
we  know  you  are  favored  by  the  Great  Spirit." 

But  Machatachten  showed  no  pity,  no  quar- 
ter. Seizing  both  abject  wretches  by  their  long 
hair,  he  cut  their  throats  with  a  single  sweep  of 
his  scalping  knife.  Then  he  scalped  them,  and 
pushed  the  bodies  over  in  a  heap.  Just  as  he 
was  tying  the  twd  Etcalps  to  his  belt,  he  h6ard  a 


212  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

mighty  shouting  behind  him.  Turning  around, 
he  beheld  the  populace,  led  by  the  late  King's 
bodyguard,  come  to  acclaim  him  as  the  new 
King.  The  vast  throng  seemed  to  be  shouting 
as  one  man:  "Hail  Machatachten,  Conqueror  of 
Death,  favored  of  the  Great  Spirit,  King  of  all 
the  red  races  east  of  the  great  lakes  and  bound- 
less plains,  all  hail,  all  reverence  to  him. ' '  Mach- 
atachten smilingly  accepted  their  greetings, 
while  an  aged  wise  man  handed  him  a  silver 
crown,  indicating  his  royal  authority.  The  new 
King  ruled  long  and  well,  uniting  his  tribes  into 
a  vast  confederation,  aU  as  was  predicted  by  the 
frail  spirit  of  Sabeleua. 


X. 

THE  HEALING  SPRING. 
(A  Story  of  Quinn's  Run.) 

IKE  the  famous  springs  at 
Bath,  England,  the  curative 
properties  of  the  famous 
' '  Healing  Spring, ' '  situated 
near  the  headwaters  of  Quion's 
Run,  in  Clinton  County,  were  discovered  by  an 
early  pioneer  noticing  that  cattle  which  had 
been  bitten  by  wolves  stood  in  it  to  heal  their 
lacerated  limbs. 

Samuel  Michael  Quinn,  ranger,  and  son  of 
Terence  Quinn,  the  famous  Indian  fighter  of 
Dry  Valley,  and  grandson  of  old  Corinnus  Mich- 
ael, a  veteran  of  Frederick  the  Great's  wars, 
with  his  good  friend,  Peter  Farley,  likewise  a 
ranger,  were  camped  for  some  time  at  the  mouth 
of  the  stream  now  called  improperly  Queen's 
Run,  engaged  in  surveying  work.  As  they  con- 
templated a  lengthy  stay  in  the  wilderness,  they 
brought  several  head  of  cattle  with  them.    Dur- 

218 


214  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

ing  their  spare  moments  they  cleared  consider- 
able ground  near  their  shanty,  and  set  out  a 
tolerable  garden  and  a  buckwheat  patch.  They 
kept  bells  on  their  cows,  which  they  allowed  to 
pasture  among  the  mountains.  On  account  of 
the  prevalence  of  panthers  and  wolves,  the  cattle 
rarely  strayed  far  from  the  open  clearing,  which 
was  guarded  by  hunting  dogs. 

During  the  wet  periods  in  September,  "the 
equinoxial  storms, ' '  they  sometimes  climbed  high 
up  on  the  sides  of  the  mountains,  but  they  could 
be  easily  apprehended  by  the  musical  tinkling 
of  their  bells.  One  evening  they  did  not  return, 
and  the  trained  dogs  scoured  the  adjacent  knobs, 
without  locating  them.  The  young  rangers  be- 
came alarmed  lest  the  animals  had  been  stolen 
by  Indians  or  killed  by  wild  beasts,  so  they  de- 
termined to  hunt  them  without  further  delay. 
Accompanied  by  their  trusty  dogs,  they  started 
out  the  old  Indian  trail  which  led  along  the  run. 
Although  they  encountered  no  signs  of  the  cat- 
tle, they  continued  clear  to  the  sources  of  the 
stream,  determined  to  cover  the  entire  ground, 
and  return  over  the  ridges  to  the  camp. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  215 

When  they  came  to  the  forks,  Quinn  and  three 
of  the  dogs  followed  the  westerly  branch,  while 
Farley  and  four  dogs  took  the  easterly.  Near 
the  heading  of  the  west  fork  Quinn  *s  dogs  caught 
a  trail  which  led  up  on  the  high  table-land  which 
lies  between  Quinn 's  Run  and  the  waters  of 
Lick  Run.  It  was  a  region  noted  for  its  dry 
ground  and  good  pasture.  It  was  a  severe  climb 
even  on  a  September  morning,  but  the  intrepid 
young  frontiersman  went  at  it  with  a  will.  At 
the  summit  the  dogs  struck  a  straight  line  and 
went  far  ahead,  tongueing  and  yelping.  In  those 
days  there  was  a  magnificent  growth  of  old-fash- 
ioned yellow  pines  on  the  high  plateau.  There 
was  little  or  no  underbrush,  consequently  an  al- 
most unobstructed  view  over  the  whole  flat. 

In  the  northwest  corner  of  the  plateau  rises 
a  bold,  rocky  knob,  then  heavily  timbered  with 
pine,  hemlock  and  hardwood.  It  was  there  that 
Quinn  finally  made  out  the  distant  barking  of 
his  dogs,  and  the  faint  tinkle  of  cow-bells.  But 
he  decided  to  follow  the  path  which  the  hounds 
had  torn  out  through  the  grass  and  ferns;  it 
might  reveal  some  lurking  bears  or  panthers 
which  he  might  slay.     At  last  he  arrived  at  a 


216  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

spot  where  there  were  signs  of  a  struggle.  The 
ferns  and  indigo  bushes  were  beaten  down,  and 
there  were  great  splotches  of  blood  on  the  leaves. 
The  cattle  had  evidently  made  a  stand  against 
enemies  here,  and  had  not  been  worsted,  as  he 
could  see  where  they  had  started  away  in  a 
northerly  direction  towards  the  knob.  He  fol- 
lowed their  tracks  for  three  miles  until  he  en- 
tered the  dense  forest  at  the  foot  of  the  eminence, 
all  the  distance  seeing  bloodstains  on  fallen  logs 
or  leaves. 

In  the  woods  he  came  upon  his  three  cows, 
guarded  by  a  yearling  bull,  and  the  shrewd  dogs. 
Upon  second  glance  he  saw  that  the  cattle  stood 
up  to  their  hocks  in  soft,  mucky  clay,  and  not 
far  from  the  swale  was  a  spring  of  water  drip- 
ping out  of  the  rocks.  Upon  close  examination 
he  saw  that  the  flanks  and  chests  of  the  cattle 
were  cut  and  torn,  and  their  mud-stained  legs 
were  also  horribly  mutilated.  The  young  bull's 
head  and  horns  were  covered  with  hair  and  dried 
blood.  Quinn  took  in  the  situation  at  a  glance. 
The  cattle  had  strayed  up  on  the  high-lands,  and 
been  attacked  by  a  pack  of  wolves.  The  bull  had 
defended  them  and  driven  the  brutes  away.    Had 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  217 

the  attack  occurred  in  midwinter  when  the 
wolves  had  no  roots  or  berries  to  eat,  and  were 
famished  with  hunger,  the  result  might  have 
been  different.  Besides  the  attacking  animals 
were  probably  wolf  pups,  as  the  older  animals 
never  killed  cattle  in  the  autumn.  But  as  it  was, 
they  had  bitten  the  cattle  cruelly,  and  in  their 
extremity  the  poor  creatures  had  sought  the  mud- 
dy swamp  to  ease  their  wounds. 

Considering  the  depth  and  number  of  the 
bites,  the  lacerations  looked  remarkably  healthy. 
Quinn  resolved  to  further  investigate,  and  vis- 
ited the  spring  which  was  the  source  of  the 
swale.  The  water  had  a  peculiar  look,  more  like 
oil  than  anything  else.  He  bent  over  and  drank 
some  of  it;  the  taste  was  decidedly  oily.  The 
color  was  unusual,  evidently  there  was  a  reflec- 
tion from  the  bottom  which  gave  it  the  hue  of 
freshly  drawn  blood.  Quinn  concluded  that  the 
water  had  some  medicinal  properties,  which  had 
attracted  the  injured  cattle.  He  found  that  the 
animals  were  able  to  travel,  so  he  started  them 
along  the  plateau  in  the  direction  of  the  Susque- 
hanna. He  travelled  by  easy  stages,  resting 
where  pasture  was  good;  he  did   not    want    to 


218  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

crowd  the  wounded  brutes  after  their  unpleas- 
ant experience.  It  was  well  after  dark  when  he 
got  back  to  his  cabin.  Farley,  who  had  gotten 
back  a  few  minutes  earlier,  heard  his  approach 
by  the  cow  bells,  and  climbed  up  the  hill  to  meet 
him. 

As  quickly  as  possible  Quinn  told  the  story, 
to  the  astonishment  of  his  companion.  It  must 
be  a  healing  spring  to  be  sure,  but  neither  of 
them,  well  versed  as  they  were  in  the  nooks  and 
corners  and  lore  of  the  mountains  at  the  edge  of 
the  Black  Forest,  had  ever  heard  of  this  spring 
before.  The  cattle  soon  recovered  from  the 
wounds,  but  the  cruel  scars  remained. 

That  winter  it  happened  that  a  friendly  In- 
dian named  Young  James  Compass,  who  was  a 
well-known  historical  character,  spent  a  night 
with  the  young  surveyors  in  their  cozy  cabin. 
In  the  course  of  the  conversation  before  the 
blazing  beech-wood  fire  the  story  of  how  the 
cattle  had  been  attacked  by  wolves  was  repeated, 
Quinn  mentioning  how  the  animals  had  retired 
to  an  oily  spring  on  the  plateau  after  their  es- 
cape from  their  tormentors. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  219 

Compass  was  much  surprised  when  he  heard 
the  story,  "Why  that's  the  famous  'Healing 
Spring,'  "  he  said.  Then  he  proceeded  to  tell 
of  many  cures  effected  by  it  on  men  and  beasts. 
He  became  so  much  interested  in  his  story  that 
when  the  coals  burned  low  he  branched  off  to  an 
ancient  legend  of  the  origin  of  the  healing 
spring,  which  had  been  told  him  in  his  boyhood 
by  the  very  old  people. 

It  was  in  the  early  days  of  the  Indian  world, 
when  there  were  no  fixed  physical  laws,  and  any- 
thing was  apt  to  happen  to  people  through  spir- 
itual agencies;  nothing  was  impossible  in  those 
days.  In  the  Black  Forest  there  lived  a  beau- 
tiful Indian  maiden  named  Wulissah,  or  the 
Pretty  One.  She  was  born  of  undistinguished 
parentage,  but  always  conducted  herself  with  a 
charm  and  grace  far  above  her  station.  Her 
kindness  of  heart  was  proverbial;  she  was  al- 
ways ready  to  help  persons  in  sickness  or  dis- 
tress. Her  many  good  qualities,  which  only 
served  to  illuminate  her  winsome  face  and  fig- 
ure, attracted  the  attention  of  many  Indians  of 
high  degree.  Yet  she  bore  herself  modestly,  al- 
though among  her  admirers  were  several  war- 


220  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

riors  and  hunters  who  stood  close  to  the  King, 
This  naturally  aroused  the  jealousy  of  other 
Indian  girls  of  obscure  birth;  they  could  not 
understand  why  the  law  of  caste  should  be  abro- 
kated  for  Wulissah's  benefit  and  not  for  them; 
for  the  foolish  creatures  believed  themselves 
equally  pretty  and  intelligent. 

Among  the  heroes  who  courted  this  unusual 
maiden  was  the  stalwart  brave,  Pegenink  or 
Darkness.  This  young  warrior  was  of  swarthy 
complexion  and  powerful  frame,  and  known  far 
and  wide  as  a  wrestler  and  all  around  othlete. 
He  possessed  a  peculiar  charm  which  endeared 
him  to  most  women  with  whom  he  came  in  con- 
tact. When  he  smiled  on  a  woman  she  consid- 
ered hersilf  highly  favored.  Maidens  of  high 
and  low  degree  sighed  for  him,  but  he  was  slow 
in  making  his  choice  of  a  wife.  When  he  did 
exhibit  a  preference,  it  was  for  the  lovely  Wul- 
issah.  The  girl  could  hardly  believe  her  senses 
when  this,  the  most  popular  of  Indian  youths, 
desired  her  company  above  all  other  women. 

The  old  King  at  that  time,  Nendawagen,  or 
The  Torch,  had  an  only  daughter  named  Tiske- 
manis,  or  the  Little  Fisher  Bird.     She  was  an 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  221 

undersized  girl,  with  prominent  features,  pro- 
truding teeth,  and  snapping  black  eyes.  Being 
a  King's  daughter,  she  had  her  share  of  atten- 
tion, but  she  was  indifferent  to  the  suitors,  for 
she  loved  Pegenink.  The  young  hero  either  was 
unaware  of  her  passion,  or  did  not  admire  her, 
as  he  was  utterly  indifferent  to  her  existence. 
This  piqued  her  pride,  but  she  held  herself  with- 
in bounds  as  long  as  she  saw  that  the  object  of 
her  adoration  apparently  cared  for  no  one  else. 
One  summer  evening  she  came  upon  Pegenink 
and  Wulissah  walking  together  along  the  shores 
of  rippling  Mahoning  now  called  Lick  Run.  She 
bit  her  lips  with  rage  and  passed  on.  When  out  of 
range  of  hearing,  she  asked  her  hand-maiden, 
"Wisohen,  when  the  popular  youth  had  begun  his 
attentions  to  Wulissah,  daughter  of  plain  par- 
ents. The  hand-maiden  replied  that  rumor  had 
it  that  the  affair  had  been  going  on  for  several 
moons,  that  they  were  apt  to  marry  very  shortly. 
Cat-like,  the  princess  remarked  that  such  a 
promising  youth  as  Pegenink  was  foolish  to 
throw  himself  away  on  such  an  obscure  girl,  that 
surely  he  could  do  better. 


222  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

That  night  the  slighted  one  lay  awake  in  her 
pavilion  bemoaning  the  fate  which  gave  her  birth 
and  power,  but  denied  her  love.  Before  dawn 
sent  its  faint  streaks  of  light  into  her  apart- 
ment she  had  reasoned  out  a  plan  for  revenge. 
She  had  power,  and  why  not  use  it  to  thwart  the 
purposes  of  those  who  had  made  her  miserable. 

Tiskemanis'  hand-maiden  was  almost  as  ill- 
favored  as  her  royal  mistress,  yet  she  too  loved 
Pegenink.  That  was  why  she  knew  all  about  his 
love  story  with  "Wulissah,  when  the  princess 
first  noticed  the  pair  together.  She  yielded  very 
aptly  to  the  princess'  questionings,  as  she  saw 
a  chance  where  she  too  might  be  revenged.  Wul- 
issah, she  learned  before  long,  was  meeting  her 
lover  every  night  in  a  dense  wood  at  the  foot 
of  a  knob  which  rose  from  the  high  plateau  on 
which  the  tribe's  encampment  had  been  lately 
removed  for  the  summer  months.  This  news  she 
conveyed  to  her  royal  mistress. 

The  thought  of  the  two  together  in  blissful 
association,  while  she  had  to  seek  a  lonely  couch, 
and  toss  and  fret  for  sleepless  hours,  was  too 
much  for  the  jealous  princess.  She  waited  the 
niElxt  t?vtaiing  until  daarb,  when  she  oippwaxlhied 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  223 

her  father,  and  asked  him  to  summon  Pegenink 
into  his  presence,  to  discuss  a  war  which  was 
then  in  contemplation.  Old  King  Nendawagen 
said  that  he  doubted  if  such  a  young  man  as 
Pegenink  could  give  him  the  kind  of  advice  he 
wanted.  The  young  fellow  was  an  athlete,  a 
hunter,  who  had  yet  to  win  his  laurels  in  the 
bloody  conflicts  of  mankind.  But  the  petted 
daughter  insisted,  and  when  her  father  yielded, 
she  told  him  to  send  for  the  young  man  at  once. 
Nendawagen  said  he  was  tired,  and  did  not  want 
to  discuss  war  that  night,  but  the  princess 
stamped  her  foot,  and  the  poor  old  man  reluct- 
antly acquiesced. 

He  sent  one  of  his  bodyguard  to  fetch  the 
young  brave  into  his  presence.  The  guard  found 
Pegenink  none  too  soon,  as  he  was  already  half 
a  mile  out  of  camp,  on  his  way  to  his  tryst  with 
Wulissah.  While  he  felt  honored  that  the  King 
should  seek  his  advice,  he  disliked  greatly  to 
disappoint  his  sweetheart.  But  the  royal  wish 
came  always  first ;  common  mortals  could  be  dis- 
appointed. 

While  the  young  lover  was  being  brought  into 
ih'S  KiiQg's  ppeseoice,  ihe  crafty  Tiskemanis  had 


224  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

dispatched  a  pair  of  hired  assassins  to  the  tryst 
at  the  Knob,  to  slay  the  fair  Wulissah.  It  was 
difficult  to  obtain  murderers  base  enough  to  car- 
ry such  a  scheme  into  execution,  but  no  one 
cared  to  run  the  risk  of  refusing  to  do  a  service 
for  a  royal  princess.  Nevertheless,  even  the 
dregs  of  the  tribe  knew  the  doomed  girl's  un- 
selfish and  virtuous  life,  and  hated  to  put  her 
out  of  the  world.  As  the  wretches  tramped  across 
the  table-land  they  heaved  many  deep  sighs.  It 
was  the  first  time  in  fact  that  they  had  ever  lent 
themselves  unwillingly  to  a  murder  plot.  As 
they  neared  the  Knob  they  cursed  the  princess 
under  their  breaths.  Back  at  the  royal  pavilion 
Pegenink  was  being  brought  before  the  august 
presence  of  the  King. 

When  the  youth  entered  the  pavilion  he  found 
the  old  monarch  seated  on  his  favorite  panther 
rug,  with  his  daughter,  Tiskemanis,  beside  him. 
Pegenink  bowed  profoundly  to  his  King  and  the 
princess,  and  then  stood  at  attention. 

The  King  turned  to  the  girl  and  said:  "You 
wanted  me  to  bring  this  young  brave  here  to  talk 
about  war;  what  shall  I  ask  him?" 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  225 

The  girl  flushed,  as  she  saw  that  her  scheme 
had  been  partly  unmasked.  She  declined  to  ask 
any  questions,  yet  acted  as  if  she  wanted  the 
youth  to  remain.  However,  as  the  King  was  in 
an  uncommunicative  mood,  the  "interview" 
quickly  terminated.  Pegenink  prostrated  him- 
self again,  and  then  backed  out  of  the  big  lodge- 
house.  Once  outside,  he  broke  into  a  trot;  he 
might  still  have  time  to  overtake  Wulissah  at 
the  Knob,  and  spend  a  little  time  with  her  bliss- 
fully. With  his  athletic  DOwers,  he  traveled  much 
faster  than  the  average  man,  and  all  but  over- 
took the  two  hired  murderers.  His  pace  had 
been  accelerated  because  he  suspected  all  was 
not  right  about  that  meeting  with  the  King. 
Tiskemanis'  presence  seemed  mysterious,  yet 
what  could  be  wrong?  His  heart  beat  heavily 
against  his  breast  as  he  neared  the  sacred  spot 
where  had  passed  so  many  happy  hours. 

At  the  edge  of  the  thicket  where  Wulissah 
usually  concealed  herself  he  could  contain  his 
feelings  no  longer,  calling  out,  "My  loved  one, 
my  loved  one,  are  you  there?" 

No  answer  came  to  him,  but  he  fancied  that 
he  heard  a  crackling  of  twigs  as  if  caused  by 


226  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

heavy  men's  feet  walking  through  the  forest 
cover.  He  called  out  again,  "Wulissah,  loved 
one,  my  loved  one,  why  don't  you  answer?" 
Again  there  was  only  silence  profound  and  omi- 
nous. 

Crazed  with  anxiety,  he  sprang  into  the 
tricket  with  a  terrific  bound,  almost  stumbling 
over  the  prostrate  form  of  Wulissah,  He  heard 
her  choking,  as  if  she  was  dying;  he  touched 
her,  she  was  covered  with  blood.  Though  he 
was  a  man  of  iron  nerves,  he  uttered  a  hoarse 
cry  of  horror  and  indignation.  The  girl  raised 
her  hand,  and  pointed  further  into  the  forest 
depths.  Seeking  to  apprehend  the  murderers, 
he  plunged  forward,  but  in  the  darkness  it  was 
impossible  to  find  any  hidden  objects.  He  re- 
turned to  his  loved  one  and  bent  down  over  her. 

"What  has  happened?"  he  gasped. 

Wulissah  raised  her  head,  and  after  he  had 
kissed  life  into  her  trembling  lips,  she  told  him 
how  she  had  waited  for  his  arrival,  had  become 
anxious  lest  harm  had  come  to  him,  he  was  al- 
ways so  prompt.  At  length  she  had  heard  foot- 
steps, and  walking  forward  came  face  to  face 
with  two  Indiians  wearing  masks.    Before  shfe 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  227 

could  cry  out  one  of  them  put  his  heavy  hand 
over  her  mouth,  and  stabbed  her  again  and  again 
in  the  breast  with  his  hunting  knife.  "Weak  from 
loss  of  blood,  she  had  stumbled,  and  the  brutes, 
evidently  hearing  Pegenink's  approach,  had  sud- 
denly left  her.  A  moment  later  her  lover  had 
almost  tripped  over  her  body. 

When  she  finished  speaking  poor  Pegenink 
was  sobbing  like  a  child.  He  could  see  the  whole 
plot  iiow.  He  had  been  summoned  to  an  audi- 
ence with  the  King  so  that  the  murderers  might 
have  a  chance  to  kill  his  sweetheart.  But  he 
could  not  understand  the  reason. 

Wulissah  had  now  begun  to  breathe  heavily 
again ;  after  a  few  gasps  and  a  half  articulate  cry 
all  seemed  over.  All  at  once  she  half  rose,  and 
trance-like  with  eyes  closed,  spoke  again,  "Pe- 
genink, my  love,  I  have  seen  it  all.  Tiskemanis, 
the  King's  daughter,  loves  you.  She  had  you 
brought  into  her  father's  presence  so  the  mur- 
derers whom  she  hired  could  have  a  chance  to 
come  out  here  and  kill  me.  But  though  you  lose 
me  now  in  a  brief  space  of  time  we  will  be  to- 
gether for  always  in  the  Paradise.  By  my  death 
I  will  carry  out  the  good  intentions  which  filled 


228  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

my  heart.  The  Great  Spirit  tells  me  that  I  am 
to  become  a  healing  spring.  Farewell,  my  love, 
farewell. ' ' 

Wulissah  then  became  rigid,  and  lay  dead  in 
her  lover's  arms.  Pegenink  then  buried  her 
body  where  she  fell,  and  wandered  off  disconso- 
late. At  dawn  he  drew  his  hunting  knife,  and 
cut  his  own  throat,  lying  down  to  die  in  the  bed 
of  Lick  Run.  He  knew  that  it  would  be  useless 
to  live;  if  he  refused  to  court  Tiskemanis  she 
would  have  him  accused  of  Wulissah 's  murder. 
And  much  as  he  hated  the  King's  daughter  be- 
fore, he  loathed  her  now  for  instigating  a  foul 
crime. 

The  murderers  of  Wulissah  reported  the  next 
day  that  they  had  accomplished  their  task,  but 
the  absence  of  Pegenink  caused  the  princess 
some  uneasiness.  Perhaps  she  had  escaped  after 
all,  and  gone  away  with  the  man  of  her  choice. 
She  questioned  the  wretches  critically,  but  could 
not  shake  their  stories.  They  insisted  that  they 
could  show  her  the  body  to  allay  her  doubts. 
Accompanied  by  them,  and  her  hand-maiden, 
Wisohen,  she  travelled  several  days  later  to  the 
scene  of  ttib  htorria  d^'d.    To  the  surprisis  of 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  229 

the  murderers,  no  traces  of  a  corpse  or  any  blood 
was  to  be  found.  Where  they  claimed  to  have 
stabbed  her,  a  jet  of  bubbling  water  issued  from 
the  rocky  base  of  the  hill.  It  was  unlike  any 
water  they  had  seen  before,  for  it  was  thick  like 
oil,  and  a  deposit  at  its  bottom  gave  it  a  red, 
blood-like  color. 

"That  spring  was  not  there  when  we  killed 
the  girl,"  they  declared  with  emphasis.  "She 
is  dead,  but  she  has  been  turned  into  a  spring," 
said  one  of  them,  in  awe-struck  tones. 

This  man  had  severely  scratched  his  hand  on 
some  brambles  while  escaping  from  Pegenink 
the  night  of  the  murder,  and  reached  down  and 
bathed  the  sores  in  the  soft,  oily  water.  Imme- 
diately there  was  a  sensation  of  relief,  "It's  a 
healing  spring,  a  miracle  has  occurred,"  ex- 
claimed the  wretch, 

Tiskemanis'  face  darkened,  and  she  scowled 
at  the  hired  assassin,  then  she  uttered  a  piercing 
cry.  "That  girl  won  the  love  of  the  only  man 
I  ever  cared  for  in  life,  now  in  death  she  is  a 
healing  spring,  and  her  name  will  live  long  after 
mine  is  forgotten.  Providence  has  slighted  me 
with  my  royal  blood. ' '    Her  eyes  assumed  a  wild 


230  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

look,  a  look  of  impotent  hate,  and  she  started  to 
run  up  the  steep  hill. 

Thinking  she  had  become  mad  and  dangerous, 
the  murderers  and  the  hand-maiden  made  no 
effort  to  follow  her.  A  month  later  her  mangled 
body  was  found  at  the  bottom  of  a  precipice  on 
Kettle  Creek,  and  her  generation  soon  forgot 
her.  But  Wulissah's  name  lived  on  through  her 
good  deeds  and  in  the  healing  spring. 


XI. 

A  HUNTER'S  DAUGHTER. 

(A  Story  of  Lewis'  Run.) 

HE  older  generation  distinctly 
remember  how  every  Spring, 
after  the  close  of  the  hunting 
and  trapping  season,  Jim  Ja- 
cobs, the  famous  nimrod,  and 
his  little  family  would  arrive  at  their  camp  near 
the  source  of  Lewis'  Run.  They  occupied  an  old 
hunter's  shanty  which  stood  in  the  centre  of  an 
Indian  orchard,  where  a  few  of  the  ancient  apple 
and  plum  trees  still  bore  luscious  fruit.  Some 
gnarled  old  grape  vines  grew  on  one  side  of  the 
house,  spreading  over  a  trellis  to  the  wodshed. 
Jacobs  was  very  fond  of  his  garden,  which  he 
planted  with  characteristic  Indian  favorites  like 
beans,  turnips,  squashes,  sweet  potatoes,  maize 
and  sunflowers.  He  also  cultivated  a  few  stalks 
of  tobacco,  and  in  a  shady  corner  pink  root  and 
ginseng. 


281 


232  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

When  his  day's  work  was  done,  he  would  sit 
under  his  shady  arbor,  smoking  his  long  pipe, 
and  enjoying  the  happiest  hours  of  his  life.  His 
good  wife  would  be  nearby  preparing  supper, 
while  his  beloved  little  girl,  Corydalis,  the  only 
child  he  ever  had,  played  at  his  feet.  He  had 
been  married  more  than  sixteen  years  before 
the  little  one  was  born,  and  when  she  came  he 
poured  out  on  her  a  world  of  love  and  devotion, 
fully  shared  by  his  wife,  Zelozella,  or  The 
Cricket. 

Little  Corydalis  had  been  born  when  her  pa- 
rents were  sojourning  in  New  York  State,  on 
the  estate  of  Samuel  Ogden,  ''the  land-grabber." 
The  shrewd  Yankee  had  a  daughter  named  Bar- 
bara, who  interested  herself  in  the  welfare  of 
the  Indians  who  were  being  driven  from  their 
homes  on  an  agreement  drawn  up  while  the 
chiefs  were  under  the  influence  of  liquor,  and 
she  took  a  fancy  to  Jacobs'  infant,  asking  per- 
mission to  name  her  Corydalis,  after  one  of  her 
favorite  flowers. 

Barbara  Ogden  retained  her  interest  in  the 
little  girl  even  after  she  was  taken  back  to  Penn- 
sylvania, frequently  sending  her  gifts  of  various 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  233 

kinds.  Among  these  was  a  string  of  gold  beads 
which  she  always  wore  around  her  neck.  These 
beads  were  the  nucleus  of  a  scheme  of  adorn- 
ment which  soon  covered  the  person  of  the  tiny 
girl.  Beads  of  every  color  were  secured  from 
all  possible  sources  and  strung  on  her  clothing, 
and  wound  about  in  her  hair;  her  ears  were 
pierced  and  there  coral  pendants  were  hung. 
When  she  was  fully  decked  out,  and  wearing  a 
red  dress,  a  travelling  photographer  named  Wil- 
liam McKeen,  the  first  to  go  through  that  sec- 
tion of  the  country,  took  her  picture.  The  re- 
sult was  an  excellent  likeness,  far  better  than 
could  have  been  made  by  most  of  the  modern, 
high-priced  "artists."  One  of  the  pictures 
was  sent  to  Miss  Ogden,  who  gave  it  a  place  of 
honor  on  her  dressing  table.  The  old  Indians 
had  many  copies  struck  off  from  the  negative, 
giving  them  to  all  persons  who  seemed  the  least 
bit  interested. 

When  the  photographer  came  through  the 
wilderness  the  following  year  he  brought  his 
son  Rollo  with  him,  a  boy  of  about  twelve 
years ;  Corydalis  at  this  time  was  past  ten.  An- 
other picture  of  the  little  girl  was  taken,  also 


234  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

one  of  Jim  Jacobs,  holding  his  faithful  rifle 
which  he  called  Long  John,  This  is  the  cele- 
brated photograph  of  the  great  hunter,  and  the 
only  one  he  ever  had  taken.  It  shows  the  keen 
face,  the  bushy  locks,  the  stubby  beard,  the 
quaint  costume.  The  fact  that  the  Jacobs  fam- 
ily had  discarded  the  Indian  prejudice  against 
having  their  pictures  taken  encouraged  other 
redskins  to  do  likewise,  and  all  the  photographer 
had  to  do  was  to  show  their  likenesses  to  obtain 
fresh  sitters. 

Rollo  McKeen  was  an  unusually  handsome 
lad,  and  even  at  the  age  of  twelve  felt  a  senti- 
mental interest  in  the  pretty  little  Indian  girl, 
Corydalis.  "When  his  father  moved  his  "studio" 
over  to  Red  House  the  boy  remained  at  the 
cabin  of  the  Jacobs  family.  He  was  there  osten- 
sibly to  study  woodcraft  from  the  old  hunter, 
who  used  to  tramp  every  day  among  the  rocks 
and  ravines,  locating  wolf  dens  and  the  haunts 
of  other  game.  He  also  indulged  in  much  fish- 
ing with  the  old  hunter,  who,  Seneca-like,  would 
not  touch  the  trout  in  Lewis'  Run,  but  travelled 
to  the  Allegheny  to  angle  for  the  sweet  river  fish. 
His  favorite  fishing  headquarters  was  near  the 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  235 

mouth  of  Sugar  Creek.  In  those  days  the  Alle- 
gheny was  filled  with  such  fish  as  the  pickerel, 
chub,  dace,  suckers,  shiners  and  the  trout.  Also 
the  old  man  and  his  boy  companion  frequently 
dug  out  wodchucks  which  added  greatly  to  the 
summer  larder.  Little  Corydalis  often  accom- 
panied them  on  their  excursions,  and  a  few  times 
Jacobs'  old  time  hunting  comrade,  Johnny  Hot- 
bread,  was  with  them.  Later  in  the  summer 
they  dug  ginseng  and  golden-seal  roots  and  shot 
many  black  squirrels. 

Rollo  and  Corydalis,  thrown  constantly  to- 
gether and  both  being  old  for  their  years,  be- 
came deeply  enamored,  and  as  the  time  drew 
near  for  the  boy's  father  to  return  to  his  home 
in  Chatham  Valley,  Tioga  County,  for  the  win- 
ter, there  were  many  heartaches.  No  older  lov- 
ers felt  ihore  keenly  than  these  youngsters;  it 
was  a  real  passion  of  loe.  Both  had  a  strain  of 
primitive  sentiment,  which  raised  their  emotion 
far  above  the  commonplace.  It  was  a  clear, 
moonlight  night  in  the  last  of  September  when 
they  took  their  final  stroll  together  by  the  path 
along  Lewis'  Run.  Rollo  was  planning  what 
they  would  do  when  he  returned  the  following 


236  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

summer,  and  every  summer  thereafter,  until 
they  were  old  enough  to  be  married,  which  would 
be  when  he  was  twenty-one,  Corydalis  acquiesc- 
ing. 

Their  favorite  walk  was  to  a  pigeon  roost 
where  they  would  sit  for  hours,  listening  to  the 
sweet,  cooing  notes  of  the  birds,  which  never 
seemed  ready  to  settle  down  for  the  night.  On 
this  particular  evening  they  found  the  roost  de- 
serted; it  was  as  silent  as  a  graveyard.  There 
was  not  a  murmur  in  the  giant  beech  trees  to 
tell  where  the  amorous  tenants  had  gone. 

Corydalis  said  that  she  would  feel  as  lonely 
as  the  beechwood  during  the  months  when  her 
lover  was  away.  '  *  And, ' '  she  added  sadly, ' '  per. 
haps  neither  the  pigeons  nor  yourself  will  ever 
return. ' ' 

"Of  course  I  will,"  said  the  boy,  with  the 
sublime  confidence  of  early  youth. 

That  night  they  kissed  many  times  before  re- 
tiring, and  in  the  foggy  yellow  light  of  early 
morning  they  hid  themselves  behind  the  wood- 
shed for  their  last  love  and  embraces. 

Ever  after  that  RoUo  hated  yellow,  foggy 
mornings, — they  were  symbols    of    disappoint- 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  237 

ment.  He  met  his  father  at  the  highroad,  and 
they  drove  away  together,  the  boy  all  the  way 
talking  of  what  he  was  to  do  the  next  summer. 
School  was  already  in  progress  at  his  home  vil- 
lage, but  in  the  distraction  of  his  tasks,  he  could 
not  forget  his  loving  and  care-free  days  in  the 
old  forest.  He  wrote  the  name  of  Corydalis 
many  times  in  his  geography  and  copy  books, 
and  also  cut  it  on  his  desk,  and  on  the  window- 
sill  in  his  bedroom.  He  wrote  to  her  several 
times,  speaking  of  love  and  marriage,  receiving 
a  few  scrawled  words  of  love  in  return. 

Shortly  after  the  advent  of  the  New  Year 
news  came  of  the  death  of  one  of  his  father's 
uncles  who  carried  on  a  large  printing  business 
in  Philadelphia.  The  old  man  was  a  bachelor, 
and  to  conserve  his  affairs,  it  was  decided  that 
the  nephew  should  go  there  to  manage  the  estab- 
lishment. In  February  the  entire  McKeen 
household  removed  to  the  City  of  Brotherly 
Love.  The  excitement  of  moving  had  much  to 
do  with  calming  RoUo's  ardor  for  the  little  In- 
dian girl  in  the  distant  wilds.  The  great  city, 
new  interests,  new  friends,  all  helped  to  mark 
th6  mentfiil  attitude  of  this  impressionable  lad> 


238  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

Though  on  the  first  night  in  his  city  home  he 
had  carved  his  sweetheart's  name  on  the  wood- 
work in  his  room,  and  even  started  a  letter  to 
her  which  he  never  finished,  which  began  "Dear- 
est Corydalis,  I  miss  you  very  much."  It  was 
not  that  he  was  fickle,  but  the  latest  is  the  great- 
est impression  to  the  very  young. 

When  summer  came  no  mention  was  made  of 
visiting  the  wilds  of  Lewis '  Run,  a  new  life  had 
commenced.  The  erstwhile  photographer  pros- 
pered in  his  ncAV  business,  he  was  far  from  being 
the  travelling  mountebank  that  some  of  his  rela- 
tives called  him.  The  boy  Rollo  was  bright  in 
his  studies,  and  showed  a  decided  tendency  to- 
wards literary  composition.  He  wrote  verses 
and  little  hunting  stories,  which  were  commend- 
ed by  his  teachers.  He  would  become  an  editor, 
teacher,  lawyer,  various  members  of  the  family 
predicted.  His  good  looks  made  him  a  prime 
favorite  everywhere,  even  with  his  parents, 
brothers  and  sisters.  He  passed  through  the 
common  school,  the  high  school,  with  distinction, 
and  was  entered  at  the  University.  There  ho 
made  many  friends  among  students  allied  with 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  239 

the  old  Quaker  families  and  visited  at  their 
homes. 

Of  all  of  these  his  particular  chum  in  his 
upper  class  days  was  a  lad  named  Victor  Mor- 
ris, who  had  a  beautiful  sister  named  Wistaria. 
The  first  time  that  RoUo  met  her  he  thought  how 
strange  it  was  that  the  two  girls  whom  he  had 
admired  most  both  had  the  names  of  flowers, 
Corydalis  and  Wistaria. 

Wistaria  Morris  was  about  two  years  his 
junior,  or  approximately  the  same  age  as  Cory- 
dalis Jacobs.  She  had  pale,  blue  eyes,  much 
the  same  color  as  those  of  the  flower  for  which 
she  was  named;  her  hair  was  dun,  or  pale  gold 
color,  like  the  leaves  of  the  Wistaria  vine  in 
early  May.  Her  lips,  unlike  those  of  Cory- 
dalis, were  painfully  thin.  She  seemed  to  like 
Rollo,  although  she  had  many  admirers.  The 
country-bred  boy  was  good  looking  and  clever, 
yet  he  realized  that  there  was  a  financial  and 
social  gulf  between  him  and  his  chum's  sister, 
which  caused  him  to  go  slowly  about  declaring 
his  love. 

During  the  last  months  of  his  senior  year  in 
colleg'e  the  Mdrris  household    receivield   a    visit 


240  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

from  a  maiden  aunt  who  resided  in  the  western 
part  of  New  York  State,  a  Miss  Barbara  Ogden. 
She  met  Rollo  McKeen  at  dinner  one  night  and 
seemed  much  interested  when  she  learned  that 
he  had  spent  some  of  his  youthful  days  among 
the  Seneca  Indians.  She  said  that  shortly  after 
she  had  named  her  niece  Wistaria  for  her  fav- 
orite flower  she  had  given  a  little  Indian  girl 
the  name  of  Corydalis,  after  another  much  loved 
blossom. 

Rollo,  for  some  unaccountable  reason,  felt  his 
heart  beat  violently.  He  asked  the  lady  if  the 
little  girl's  last  name  was  Jacobs,  if  so  he  knew 
her  and  her  parents  well. 

She  replied  that  he  was  correct,  and  later  in 
the  evening  went  to  her  room  and  brought  down 
a  tiny  photograph  of  the  little  girl,  decked  out 
in  her  gold-bead  chain  and  other  finery.  On  the 
back  of  the  card  was  stamped  "William  Mc- 
Keen, Photographer." 

Rollo  admitted  frankly  that  it  had  been  taken 
by  his  father.  This  established  the  boy's  social 
status,  and  finally  determined  Wistaria,  who 
was  at  heart  a  believer  in  caste,  in  a  step  she 
was  cttntempdating  taking; 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  241 

That  night  Rollo  lay  awake  thinking  of  his 
early  boyhood,  all  of  which  came  back  to  him 
like  in  a  dream.  He  was  now  two  months  past 
his  twenty-first  birthday,  when  he  had  prom- 
ised to  come  for  Corydalis  and  make  her  Ills 
wife.  He  wondered  where  she  was,  and  if  she 
remembered  him  after  all  these  years ;  he  chided 
himself  for  not  having  written  her.  But  in  the 
foreground  of  his  heart  he  saw  the  fair,  elegant 
image  of  Wistaria,  whom  he  planned  would  be 
his  wife  some  day. 

Three  days  before  Rollo 's  graduation,  at 
which  he  was  valedictorian.  Wistaria  announced 
her  betrothal  to  one  Horace  Rambo,  a  young 
man  of  excellent  connections,  and  it  took  all  of 
the  joy  out  of  the  exercises,  at  which  he  hoped 
to  shine  to  impress  her  with  his  worthiness.  The 
marriage  was  not  to  take  place  until  the  follow- 
ing winter,  and  the  disappointed  boy  imagined 
he  might  win  her  away  by  that  time.  He  entered 
a  law  office,  and  began  his  preparations  for  the 
bar.  He  saw  Wistaria  occasionally,  but  the 
chance  never  came  for  him  to  charm  her  or  de- 
clare himself.  She  was  married  with  consider- 
able pomp,  the  ceremony  completely  crushing 


242  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

out  Rollo's  interest  in  his  law  studies.  He  en- 
dured his  lacerated  feelings  until  summer,,  when 
he  felt  that  he  must  have  a  change  of  environ- 
ment, or  his  heart  would  break. 

Often,  but  only  at  night,  he  could  see  the 
childish  image  of  Corydalis;  would  it  not  be 
interesting  to  enjoy  an  outing  in  the  backwoods, 
and  perhaps  meet  the  sweetheart  of  his  youth 
again.  Though  he  would  not  admit  it,  his  heart 
had  been  ever  true  to  his  first  love,  his  con- 
science pricked  him  for  breaking  his  promise 
to  her;  it  was  only  his  pride,  his  hope  of  ma- 
terial advancement  that  was  piqued  by  his  ill- 
starred  attachment  for  Wistaria.  He  told  his 
parents  of  his  projected  trip;  they  were  glad 
to  have  him  go  anywhere  which  might  improve 
his  spirits;  he  was  suffering  from  overwork  in 
their  opinion.  The  railroad  connections  to  the 
Lewis'  Run  country  were  better  than  formerly, 
otherwise  the  region  was  much  the  same  as  when 
he  was  last  there  ten  years  before.  Lumbering 
was  still  being  carried  on,  only  sparingly,  con- 
sequently most  of  the  grand  old  forests  were 
standing;  game  was  abundant,  there  were  even 
a  few  wolves,  the  streams  still  teemed  with  fish. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  243 

He  met  Johnny  Hotbread  before  he  had 
tramped  far  up  the  creek.  The  old  fellow  was 
more  wrinkled,  his  hair  was  snow  white,  but 
RoUo  recognized  him.  The  Indian  said  he  was 
living  alone  in  the  shanty  formerly  occupied 
by  Jim  Jacobs. 

"Where's  Jim  and  his  family?"  inquired 
Hollo  impatiently,  on  hearing  this. 

The  aged  redskin  told  him  that  the  Jacobs 
family  had  moved  away  three  years  previously, 
that  the  intrepid  old  huntsman  had  learned  of 
some  bear  caves  on  Freeman's  Run  in  the  very 
heart  of  the  Black  Forest,  that  he  had  gone  there 
one  Spring  with  his  family  and  never  came  back. 
He  supposed  that  they  were  doing  well.  As  for 
Corydalis,  she  was  a  big,  fine  looking  girl  when 
she  went  away. 

Though  RoUo  was  a  trifle  disappointed  at  not 
finding  his  friends  as  easily  as  expected,  he  was 
not  discouraged.  He  would  enjoy  the  tramp 
to  the  Black  Forest  and  invited  Hotbread  to  ac- 
company him  as  guide.  The  old  redskin  was 
glad  to  accept,  as  he  was  always  ready  to  make 
a  little  money.  Before  leaving,  the  sentimental 
youth  strolled  to  the  old    pigeon    roost;    there 


244  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

were  no  signs  of  any  birds,  most  of  the  big  beech 
trees  had  been  cut  down  for  firewood.  It  was 
a  desolate  looking  spot. 

The  walk  over  the  mountains,  which  took 
nearly  a  week,  was  ideal  from  every  point  of 
view.  The  weather  was  warm,  but  they  trav- 
elled along  shady  roads  and  trails  almost  the 
entire  distance.  The  rhododendron  and  the 
laurel  were  in  bloom,  as  well  as  other  mid-sum- 
mer flowers.  At  nightfall  they  usually  camped 
in  the  woods,  the  old  guide  catching  a  few  trout 
for  supper,  which  he  cooked  deliciously.  On 
several  occasions  their  dogs'  barking  evoked  an- 
swers wolfish  from  the  mountain  tops.  When  they 
came  to  the  waters  of  Freeman's  Run,  they  en- 
countered a  couple  of  timber  cruisers  who  told 
them  that  Jim  Jacobs'  cabin  was  at  the  head- 
waters, which  meant  that  there  still  were  five 
miles  between  them  and  the  shanty.  The  lum- 
bermen said  that  the  old  man  had  been  away 
from  his  cabin  very  little  of  late,  as  he  was  very 
solicitous  about  his  invalid  daughter. 

RoUo's  face  grew  hard  when  he  heard  this, 
and  he  inquired  the  cause  of  her  illness. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  245 

"It's  lung  trouble,"  replied  one  of  the  cruis- 
ers, '*the  poor  girl  has  been  going  downhill  for 
the  past  year.  It  doesn't  look  as  if  she  could 
last  much  longer." 

Hollo  knew  that  tuberculosis  was  the  scourge 
of  the  Pennsylvania  mountain  people,  especially 
those  with  Indian  blood,  and  tears  stood  out  in 
his  blue  eyes.  He  brought  his  talk  with  the 
cruisers  to  a  close  and  hurried  along  the  run  in 
the  direction  of  the  cabin  of  the  aged  hunter. 
When  he  came  in  sight  of  it  he  could  see  that 
it  was  characteristic  of  the  man  who  lived  in  it. 
In  front  of  the  door  was  a  tiny  yard,  planted 
with  old-fashioned  flowers.  On  nails  on  either 
side  of  the  door,  hung  many  rusty  bear  traps, 
to  be  used  in  the  late  fall  when  bruin's  coat  was 
in  good  condition.  A  wildcat  skin  hung  above 
the  door,  fur  inward,  a  huge  set  of  elk  horns 
was  nailed  above  one  of  the  windows,  a  red- 
tailed  hawk  above  the  other. 

As  the  door  was  open,  RoUo  and  Hotbread  en- 
tered, finding  old  Jacobs,  unchanged  in  appear- 
ance, seated  within,  mending  a  pigeon  net.  He 
seemed  delighted  to  see  his  old  friends;  he  had 
no  trouble  in  remembering  the  boyish  friend  of 


246  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

other  days,  now  a  full  fledged  man,  with  a  fine, 
brown  mustache.  RoUo  asked  eagerly  after 
Mammy  Jacobs  and  Corydalis. 

At  the  mention  of  his  wife's  name  the  old 
hunter  smiled,  saying  "she's  very  well,"  but 
he  looked  sad  when  Corydalis  was  spoken  of. 
"I  am  sorry  to  tell  you  she's  very  poorly." 

The  young  man  asked  to  see  her,  so  Jacobs 
led  the  way  through  the  cabin,  out  to  a  covered 
back  porch,  the  pillars  overgrown  with  morning 
glories,  where  on  a  couch,  the  fair  girl  lay.  Rollo 
almost  dropped  fainting  when  he  saw  her.  What 
a  change  time  had  wrought  in  her!  Though 
she  was  barely  twenty  years  old,  her  emaciated, 
skull-like,  ashen  face  might  have  belonged  to  a 
woman  of  seventy.  Her  intensely  black  hair  was 
drawn  tightly  back  from  her  forehead  and  tem- 
ples; her  great,  black  eyes  literally  popped  out 
from  the  ghastly  sockets.  Her  long,  emaciated 
hands  lay  limp  on  the  crazy  quilt  cover,  like  the 
hands  of  a  corpse.  Under  the  right  hand  was 
half  revealed  a  scrap  of  paper,  yellow  with  age. 
Around  the  girl's  neck  was  the  familiar  string 
of  gold  beads,  given  her  by  the  wealthy  Barbara 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  247 

Ogden  long  years  before.  Yet  something  of  her 
old  charm  remained,  despite  her  changed  estate. 

To  Hollo's  surprise,  the  invalid  recognized 
him  instantly,  uttering  a  half-suppressed  cry 
of  joy.  Mother  Jacobs,  who  had  been  in  the 
back  kitchen,  heard  her  and  came  rushing  in. 
She  too  remembered  the  young  visitor,  and  gave 
way  to  hysterical  laughter.  Then  she  took  Rollo 
by  the  hand,  exclaiming,  "now  Corydalis  will  get 
well." 

Then  she  went  on  to  say  "the  poor  girl  began 
to  pine  away  over  a  year  ago  when  you  did  not 
come  to  keep  your  promise  to  her." 

The  youth  was  speechless  for  a  moment,  then 
he  spoke  out. 

"I  thought  she  had  forgotten.  I  never 
dreamed  she  would  remember  me." 

Then  came  a  voice  from  the  couch,  "But  you 
did  not  forget  me,  did  you,  Rollo?" 

"No,  I  did  not,"  he  retorted  with  truth, 
"there  was  never  a  day  but  what  I  thought  of 
you." 

"But  why  did  you  not  come  then,  or  write 
a  line,"  said  Mother  Jacobs,  her  excitement  get- 
ting the  better  of  discretion. 


248  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  said  the  youth,  "but 
many,  many  reasons  detained  me.  I  was  get- 
ting an  education,  I  was  working  hard, — I 
meant  no  harm." 

"I  forgive  you,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Cory- 
dalis,  with  her  hoarse  voice.  *'You  have  come, 
and  folks  say  that  it's  always  better  late  than 
never."  Then  she  began  to  cough.  "When  the 
paroxysm  was  over  she  held  up  the  piece  of 
yellow  paper.  ' '  See, ' '  she  said,  * '  that  is  the  last 
letter  you  wrote  to  me, — it  is  dated  more  than 
seven  years  ago.  In  it  you  repeated  your  pro- 
mise to  come  back  and  marry  me  when  you  were 
twenty-one.  I  never  lost  hope,  but  my  loneli- 
ness made  me  what  I  am  today." 

Then  she  coughed  pitifully,  and  her  head 
dropped,  she  was  exhausted.  Whether  her  dy- 
ing condition  was  wholly  due  to  his  failure  to 
keep  his  word,  or  came  from  a  taint  in  the  blood 
did  not  matter  to  Rollo  now.  He  saw  his  duty 
and  was  going  to  perform  it,  regardless  of  the 
future  or  what  his  family  thought. 

"Dearest  Corydalis,"  he  said,  stooping  down 
and  kissing  her  quivering  lips,  "I  was  detained 
by  various  circumstances,  which   I  will  never 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  249 

cease  to  regret,  but  I  have  come  to  marry  you, 
and  make  up  for  the  past.  I  love  you  with  all 
my  heart." 

The  girl  smiled  faintly,  and  patches  of  hectic 
color  rose  in  her  drawn  cheeks. 

**I  love  you,  too,"  she  said  firmly. 

The  young  man  turned  to  Mother  Jacobs,  in- 
quiring where  the  nearest  preacher  was  to  be 
found.  She  informed  him  that  there  was  a  cir- 
cuit rider  who  came  as  far  as  the  other  side  of 
the  divide,  at  Roulette,  and  the  next  day  being 
Sunday  would  probably  find  him  there. 

As  she  was  speaking  old  Jacobs  edged  close  to 
the  boy,  laying  his  hand  affectionately  on  his 
shoulder.  "My  son,"  he  said,  "you  have  saved 
our  girl's  life.  She  was  pining  away  for  you. 
I  admire  you  for  your  honor.  No  Seneca  could 
have  done  more." 

"Why  did  you  not  write  me  in  all  these 
years?  That  would  have  kept  the  date  of  my 
coming  fresh  in  mind,"  said  RoUo,  whose  pres- 
ence of  mind  had  returned  sufficiently  to  want 
to  put  in  a  defence. 

"Because,"  broke  in  Mother  Jacobs,  "none 
of  us  wrote  very  well,  except  Corydalis,  and  she 


250  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

kept  saying  that  if  you  cared  to  come  you  would 
be  here  without  a  letter  to  bring  you." 

Then  RoUo  said  he  would  start  across  the 
mountain  immediately,  and  return  with  the 
preacher  the  next  evening.  It  was  after  dark 
when  the  young  man,  accompanied  by  the  faith- 
ful Hotbread,  reached  the  quaint  little  town 
among  the  hills.  They  put  up  for  the  night 
with  an  old  man  who  burned  tar,  and  whose 
cabin  and  fragrant  smelting  pits  were  located 
across  the  road  from  the  little  Disciple  Church. 
The  next  afternoon,  before  the  bearded  circuit- 
rider  could  dismount  from  his  horse,  RoUo  had 
approached  him  and  gained  his  consent  to  go  to 
Freeman's  Run  and  perform  the  ceremony.  The 
young  man  attended  Sunday  School  and '  *  preach- 
ing," which  was  purposely  shortened,  and  then 
the  Indian,  the  bridegroom-to-be,  and  the  cler- 
gyman started  across  the  high  mountain.  The 
sunset  was  no  more  when  they  got  to  Jim  Ja- 
cobs' cabin,  where  they  found  the  old  man  wait- 
ing outside,  so  as  to  bring  the  news  to  Corydalis 
the  minute  he  saw  the  party  approaching. 

He  hastened  to  the  back  porch  when  he  espied 
them,  and  the  girl's  face  lighted  up  with  loving 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  251 

expectancy.  Candles  were  brought  in,  and 
Rollo  took  his  fiancee's  cold  hand,  and  was  unit- 
ed to  her  in  marriage.  That  night  was  the  hap- 
piest for  many  years  in  the  poor  sufferer's  life; 
she  fell  asleep  with  a  smile  on  her  lips. 

It  was  half  past  one  in  the  morning  that 
Mother  Jacobs,  who  slept  with  Corydalis,  came 
running  into  the  house  to  say  that  the  poor  girl 
was  choking  to  death.  Rollo,  carrying  a  candle 
was  the  first  to  reach  her  side.  Placing  the  light, 
the  flame  of  which  the  night  wind  threatened  to 
extinguish,  on  a  chair,  he  fell  on  his  knees  be- 
side her.  She  placed  her  arms  around  his  neck 
while  she  raised  herself  up  in  an  effort  to  articu- 
late. With  a  final  effort  she  spoke,  and  said  in 
a  normal  tone  of  voice :  ' '  Oh,  Rollo,  my  darling, 
I  am  so  happy.    I  will  never  grieve  again. ' ' 

Then  she  sank  back,  breathed  heavily  three  or 
four  times,  her  hands  and  feet  grew  cold,  she 
expired.  Rollo  accompanied  her  body  across  the 
mountain,  where  it  was  laid  to  rest  in  the  tiny 
churchyard  in  Roulette.  When  he  gazed  at  her 
for  the  last  time  on  the  brink  of  the  grave,  the 
look  of  emaciation  had  vanished,  the  smile  was 
sweeter  than  ever,  just  like  it  was  in  the  happy, 


252 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 


carefree  days  on  Lewis'  Run.  Much  had  been 
added  to  his  human  experience  by  the  time  the 
young  man  got  back  to  Philadelphia  once  more. 
But  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  which  was  many 
years,  he  was  true  to  the  spirit  of  Corydalis. 


XII. 

THE  MOMENT  THE  LIGHTS  WERE  LIT. 
(A  Romance  of  the  Mountains.) 

UBERT  Le  Grand,  represent- 
ing Isabella  II.  Queen  of 
Spain,  was  on  his  way  to  the 
Tangascootac  region  to  report 
on  the  value  and  management 
of  the  august  ruler's  vast  properties,  which  in- 
cluded thousands  of  acres  of  timber  and  coal 
lands  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Susquehanna,  and 
extending  to  the  north  into  the  Black  Forest. 
It  was  a  novel  experience  for  this  young  man 
of  twenty-four,  who  had  been  born  in  Madrid  of 
French  parents.  Incidentally,  he  was  riding 
on  one  of  the  first  trains  to  run  through  from 
Harrisburg  to  Farrandsville,  the  Sunbury  and 
Erie  Railway  having  been  only  recently  com- 
pleted on  to  Rattlesnake,  now  Wetham,  from  its 
former  terminus  at  Lock  Haven. 

When  the  train,  with  its  wood-burner  engine 
and  bulbous  smokestack  left  the  imposing  depot 

25S 


254  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

at  Harrisburg  amid  much  puffing  of  black  smoke, 
a  scene  of  rare  beauty  spread  out  before  the 
travellers.  It  is  a  beautiful  ride  today,  but  was 
more  so  half  a  century  ago,  before  the  ruthless 
hand  of  man  had  desolated  the  forests  and 
ripped  off  whole  sides  of  the  majestic  mountains 
for  his  stone-crushers. 

It  was  about  three  o'clock,  in  the  full  glory 
of  the  afternoon,  when  the  train  emerged  from 
the  shed.  In  the  distance  loomed  the  dark  line 
of  the  First  Mountain,  deeply  indented  at  the 
* '  Narrows  "  as  if  to  let  the  river  and  the  railway 
through.  As  the  train  neared  Dauphin,  a  moun- 
tain of  majestic  grandeur  rose  sheer  up  from 
the  tracks.  Tiny  log  cabins  nestled  among  the 
pine  forests  on  its  sides.  The  old  canal-boats, 
drawn  by  drowsy  horses,  decked  out  with  bells 
and  plumes,  drifted  along  on  the  side  of  the 
tracks  nearest  the  river;  the  drivers  cracked 
their  blacksnake  whips,  the  heavy  boats  left  a 
long  trail  of  shadow  in  the  clear  water.  Beyond 
was  the  on-rushing  and  imposing  tide  of  the 
lardly  Susquehanna,  dotted  with  shady  islands. 
Over  its  expanses  water-birds  were  flying. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  255 

Every  few  miles  it  seemed  that  clear,  sparkling 
brooks,  Paxton,  Fishing,  Stony,  Clark 's,  Powell's 
and  Armstrong's  Creeks,  ran  out  from  the  nar- 
row valleys  between  the  mountain  ranges,  invit- 
ing leisurely  exploration,  and  all  kinds  of  specu- 
lation as  to  the  wild  regions  where  they  rose. 
The  chin-bearded  conductor,  a  pompous  indi- 
vidual, in  a  broad-cloth  suit,  a  white  rose  in  his 
button-hole,  and  a  silk  hat,  pulled  the  bell  rope 
with  his  kid-gloved  hand  when  the  train  drew 
into  such  quaint  little  settlements  as  Fort  Hun- 
ter, Shupps,  Speeceville,  Green's  Dam,  and 
Fort  Halifax. 

The  young  Frenchman  was  so  absorbed  by 
these  wild  and  unusual  scenes,  that  it  was  not 
until  after  the  conductor  had  called  out  a  name 
in  his  own  language,,  ''Dauphin,  Dauphin,  Dau- 
phin, ' '  that  he  adjusted  himself  to  his  surround- 
ings sufficiently  to  begin  to  study  his  fellow- 
travellers.  And  a  most  interesting  lot  they 
were,  different  from  any  he  'had  seen  in  his  life. 
Many  of  them  were  lumbermen,  sturdy,  black- 
bearded  fellows,  who  had  removed  their  coats 
to  find  relief  from  the  August  heat,  and  sat  in 
their  red  shirts,  silent  and  impassi\ie. 


256  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

There  were  numerous  women  and  children  of 
the  brunette  type,  except  that  a  few  of  them  had 
fine,  blue  eyes,  which  set  off  in  bolder  relief  the 
intense  blackness  of  their  hair.  They  represented 
a  type  evolved  by  hardships  and  frontier  life, 
which  a  generation  or  two  softened  into  brown 
and  fair  haired  beings  with  the  easier  conditions 
of  existence. 

On  the  sunny  side  of  the  coach,  the  side  near- 
est the  river,  the  Frenchman  noticed  one  per- 
son, a  young  girl,  whose  hair  was  comparatively 
light.  It  was  noticeable  partly  because  the  other 
passengers  were  so  dark,  partly  because  the  deep 
rays  of  the  afternoon  sun  gilded  the  fair,  natur- 
ally wavy  locks  into  the  color  of  molten  metal. 
The  girl  wore  a  small  "cherry-box"  hat,  and 
her  heavy  "waterfall"  locks  were  kept  in  place 
by  a  net.  She  wore  a  lace  fascinator  over  her 
black  silk  dress.  She  had  lovely  shoulders,  and 
her  graceful  neck  was  ornamented  by  a  heavy 
string  of  red  coral  beads. 

Though  she  seemed  "better  class"  than  the 
other  travellers,  and  her  fairness  was  a  relief 
after  so  many  dark  tresses,  she  sat  in  a  position 
where  the  young  man  could  barely  observ^  her 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  257 

features.  He  gazed  at  her  many  times,  but  the 
frequent  stopping  of  the  train,  and  the  rugged 
landscape  outside,  diverted  him  from  a  too  con- 
tinual scrutiny.  He  wondered  who  she  might 
be,  and  where  she  was  going  that  glorious  after- 
noon, when  the  breezes  stirred  the  leaves  and 
corn  and  rippled  the  waters  of  river,  canal,  and 
creeks  so  wonderfully. 

The  sight  of  this  fair  creature  made  the  time 
pass  even  more  quickly  than  it  would  have  oth- 
erwise. Millersburg  was  called  out  in  stentorian 
tones,  and  the  train  halted  at  the  curious  little 
station.  It  appeared  as  if  the  entire  population 
had  assembled  there  to  greet  the  arrival  of  the 
afternoon  train  just  as  they  do  to-day.  In  ap- 
pearance these  villagers  were  much  the  same  as 
Hubert's  fellow-travellers;  they  were  extremely 
handsome,  yet  so  different  from  any  people  he 
had  ever  seen  before !  Most  of  the  occupants  of 
the  coach  were  getting  out  at  this  stop.  They 
filed  up  the  aisle  to  the  front  door  of  the  car, 
smiling  and  chatting,  their  seriousness  while  the 
train  was  in  motion  having  quickly  vanished. 

Among  the  first  to  get  out  was  the  charming 
light-haired  girl,  with  the  cherry-box  hat  and  the 


258  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

heavy  red  corals.  Hubert  looked  out  of  the  win- 
dow; to  his  surprise  and  infinite  pleasure,  the 
fair  creature  stood  before  him  on  the  platform. 
He  saw  her  full  face.  She  was  the  most  beauti- 
ful human  being  he  had  ever  looked  at.  He 
made  no  mental  reservations,  he  who  had  seen 
beautiful  women  in  half  the  capitals  of  Europe. 
She  looked  to  be  about  nineteen  or  twenty  years 
of  age,  an  ash-blonde,  of  more  than  medium 
height.  She  was  slender,  with  complexion  rath- 
er pale.  There  was  a  universe  of  love  in  those 
deep-set,  drooping,  almond-shaped  eyes.  Her 
lips  were  full,  the  corners  of  the  mouth  descend- 
ing, and  in  an  expression  of  expectancy,  she 
showed  a  little  of  her  teeth,  which  were  white, 
but  strangely  set  very  far  apart.  She  had  rolled 
back  her  gloves,  showing  hands  exquisitely 
white,  with  long,  tapering  fingers. 

She  was  carrying  a  small,  black  satchel ;  either 
she  was  going  on  or  coming  from  a  visit.  Yet 
there  seemed  to  be  no  one  on  the  platform  with 
whom  she  was  acquainted.  The  young  traveller 
was  instantly  deeply  in  love.  He  should  have 
gotten  off  the  train.  But  it  had  started,  amid 
much  puffing  and  bell-ringing  as  thdr  eyes  met ; 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  259 

really  he  had  never  seen  such  grey  eyes  as  hers, 
with  such  fine,  black  lashes  and  brows.  But  they 
were  not  open  wide  enough  to  reveal  their  whole 
story. 

When  the  train  stopped  again  at  Liverpool, 
he  had  a  strong  impulse  to  get  out.  Instead  he 
gazed  up  at  the  unscalable  height  of  Mahan- 
tongo  Mountain,  with  gaunt  pine  trees  shivering 
in  the  wind  on  its  crest,  the  queer  old  well  at 
its  foot,  the  broad  river,  with  the  town  on  the 
far  shore  with  its  big  brick  warehouse,  the  mas- 
sive-looking Susquehanna  House,  and  the  iron 
foundry  looming  above  the  other  buildings  and 
the  soft,  green  hills  beyond. 

He  allowed  the  train  to  start  with  him  still 
on  it.  The  same  impulse  seized  him  at  Dalma- 
tia,  Herndon,  Selin's  Grove  Junction.  But  he 
remained  on  board  suffering  more  intently.  He 
could  stand  it  no  longer,  when  at  sunset,  the 
train  pulled  into  another  great  terminus,  Sun- 
bury.  There  he  left  the  train  abruptly,  fortu- 
nately finding  that  another  train  for  the  East 
was  starting  in  a  few  minutes. 

The  east-bound  journey  seemed  longer  than 
the  entire  trip  fpcnn  New  York  to  Sunb'ury  had 


260  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

been.  He  chafed  and  fretted  at  the  slowness  in 
reaching  the  stations,  he  barely  noticed  the  ball 
of  the  red  setting  sun  poised  on  the  very  horizon 
and  spreading  its  fiery  effulgence  over  the  entire 
broad  river.  Darkness,  sweet,  cool,  summer  dark- 
ness had  settled  down;  the  crickets'  chorus  was 
wafted  through  the  open  car  windows.  The  con- 
ductor, equally  as  self-important  as  the  one  on 
the  west  bound  train  had  been,  called  out  for  the 
stop  at  Millersburg.  There  were  still  a  goodly 
number  of  people  at  the  station,  which  was  il- 
luminated by  tallow  candles  set  in  glass  lantern- 
boxes;  Hubert  scanned  their  dark  faces  eagerly, 
they  were  not  like  his  fair  beloved.  Where  would 
he  find  her,  who  would  he  ask  about  her?  The 
faces  he  saw  about  him  seemed  to  grow  unsym- 
pathetic and  distant,  even  in  the  candle-light. 

He  watched  the  red  lights  on  the  rear  of  the 
train,  as  it  disappeared  into  the  darkness.  A 
feeling  of  loneliness  and  desolation  came  over 
him;  it  was  the  first  time  that  he  had  felt  it  in 
America.  There  was  still  light  in  the  station. 
Through  an  open  window  it  poured  out  on  the 
platform;  there  was  the,  musical  clicking  of  the 
telegraph  keys.    Inside  the  window,  sat  a  yoting 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  261 

man  with  black  hair  and  eyes  and  black  side- 
whiskers;  he  seemed  genial  and  approachable; 
whom  else  could  he  question?  He  addressed  the 
operator  in  broken  English,  being  answered  by 
the  youth  in  phrases  equally  unfinished. 

The  French  boy  inquired  of  the  telegrapher 
if  he  spoke  German,  to  which  he  replied  that  he 
could  only  speak  the  German  of  Pennsylvania. 
So  they  both  conversed  in  broken  English.  Hu- 
bert asked  if  the  operator  had  seen  a  young  girl, 
whom  he  described  minutely,  getting  off  the 
train  from  Harrisburg  that  afternoon.  The  rail- 
roader smiled;  his  sympathetic  interest  was 
aroused,  but  he  said  that  he  had  noticed  no  such 
person.  Nor  did  he  recollect  any  girl  in  the 
town  or  vicinity  who  answered  the  description. 

''Come  to  the  depot  at  train  time  for  two  or 
three  days ;  you  will  find  her  if  she  lives  here, ' ' 
was  his  advice. 

The  Frenchman  could  wait  a  day  or  two,  and 
the  advice  sounded  good.  The  young  operator 
directed  him  to  an  old  inn  which  stood  facing 
the  public  square;  it  was  on  the  hill  some  dis- 
tance back  of  the  station.  The  town  had  a  for- 
eign look,  especially  the  open  square  which  was 


262  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

much  like  some  old  city  in  Provence  or  in  Spain. 
The  young  lover  dreamed  of  the  fair  vision  all 
that  night,  but  his  sleep  refreshed  him. 

Bright  and  early  he  was  at  the  station  next 
morning;  he  saw  the  incoming  of  all  the  trains 
that  day.  The  customary  throngs  were  on  hand, 
but  he  saw  no  one  who  even  remotely  resembled 
his  beloved.  Between  trains,  he  walked  down  to 
the  banks  of  the  swift  flowing  Wiconisko,  which 
rushed  along  so  pure  and  rippling  from  its 
source  at  the  head  of  the  valley,  from  a  line  of 
mountains  which  resembled  a  landscape  in  Sa- 
voy. He  day-dreamed  and  meditated  under  an 
aged  buttonwood  tree  by  the  stream  until  he 
heard  the  whistle  of  the  trains,  every  time  suf- 
fering most  keenly  from  disappointment.  He  re- 
mained a  second  night  in  the  old  town;  if  she 
did  not  appear  at  the  station  by  the  time  of  the 
arrival  of  the  next  afternon  train  from  the  east, 
he  would  board  it  and  proceed  on  his  way. 

From  subsequent  talks  with  the  black-whis- 
wered  agent  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
girl  could  not  live  in  town.  If  she  was  visiting 
there,  it  was  strange  that  she  did  not  frequent 
the  station  like  everybody  else  to  see  the  trains 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  263 

come  in.  ''Even  the  High  Zekes,"  as  the  opera- 
tor called  the  local  aristocracy  of  Scotch-Irish 
land-owners,  rarely  missed  the  arrival  of  the 
trains. 

Hubert,  with  many  feelings  of  sadness,  board- 
ed the  afternoon  train  for  the  west  the  following 
day.  He  left  his  name  and  address  with  the 
operator  who  promised  to  write  him  in  case  such 
a  girl  as  he  described  appeared  at  the  station 
later  on.  He  travelled  on  up  the  fair  valley, 
the  scenery  impressing  him  as  much  as  ever,  but 
tinged  with  an  overpowering  sadness.  It  be- 
came somewhat  dark  shortly  after  the  train  left 
Sunbury,  he  could  barely  make  out  the  gorgeous 
*' meeting  of  the  waters,"  where  the  North  and 
West  Branches  of  the  Susquehanna  unite  their 
destinies  at  Northumberland.  His  travelling 
companions  became  stupid  and  sleepy;  his  con- 
sciousness suffering  from  a  heart-sore  was  keen- 
ly awake;  how  differently  he  felt  from  everyone 
else  in  the  coach.  He  had  never  felt  his  con- 
sciousness so  acute,  he  had  never  been  so  un- 
happy. 

At  Lock  Haven,  the  local  agent  of  his  royal 
employer  met  him  on  the  train.    It  was  a  for- 


264  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

tuitoiis  break  in  the  single  line  of  thought.  The 
agent,  John  Sommerville  by  name,  a  big,  jovial 
Scotchman,  had  much  to  tell  about  the  itinerary- 
mapped  out  for  the  young  man's  sojourn,  and 
began  explaining  away  some  of  the  unsatisfac- 
tory results  of  the  past  operations  of  the  prop- 
erty. The  time  passed  speedily  until  Farrands- 
ville  was  reached,  where  the  Scotchman  and  the 
French  lad  left  the  train.  They  would  spend 
the  night  at  some  sleeping  apartments  fitted  up 
in  the  offices  of  the  estate  near  the  railway  sta- 
tion, and  in  the  morning  drive  to  the  agent's 
home  on  'Scotac  Run. 

An  early  start  was  made  in  a  handsome  lan- 
dau, drawn  by  two  powerful,  black  horses,  driv- 
en by  a  liveried  negro  coachman,  Hartshorne 
Patterson,  which  met  the  party  on  the  opposite 
bank  of  the  river,  after  they  had  crossed 
it  in  a  row-boat.  The  road  led  through  a 
primeval  forest  of  white  pine,  hemlock,  beech, 
birch  and  maple;  there  were  rhododendron 
trees  forty  feet  high,  which  still  retained 
a  few  late,  waxy-like  blossoms.  They  crossed 
and  re-crossed  the  run,  which  foamed  and  eddied 
and  raced  over  the  rocky  bed.    It  was  filled  with 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  266 

trout  and  other  gamey  fish,  the  Scotchman  said. 
He  dilated  on  the  plentitude  of  the  game ;  there 
had  been  elks  or  Pennsylvania  stags,  in  the  for- 
est until  a  few  years  previous,  now  they  had 
been  driven  further  north;  there  were  still  pan- 
thers, brown  bears,  black  bears,  wild-cats,  per- 
haps a  wolf  or  two,  many  foxes  and  countless 
deer.  Every  hundred  yards  or  so  ruffed  grouse 
flew  up  beside  the  road,  or  quail  trotted  in  front 
of  the  horses'  feet.  Songs  of  rare  warblers 
echoed  from  among  the  giant  trees.  It  was  in- 
deed a  rare  treat  to  see  nature  in  her  own  ha- 
biliment, before  it  was  torn  away  by  man's  ra- 
pacity. 

The  Frenchman  wondered  why  he  met  no  wa- 
gons hauling  ore,  coal,  or  lumber,  and  at  last 
inquired  of  the  superintendent.  The  war  had 
caused  a  drop  in  prices,  it  did  not  pay  to  ship 
anything  at  the  present  time,  was  the  reply. 
At  noon,  they  emerged  into  a  vast  clearing.  On 
a  treeless  knoll,  which  rose  near  the  brook, 
stood  the  spacious  residence  of  the  agent.  It 
was  built  in  the  latest,  the  French  style  of  archi- 
tecture, with  a  Mansart  roof,  and  tall  windows. 


266  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

The  entrance,  which  was  imposing,  led  into  a 
large  hall,  on  one  side  of  which  was  an  open 
fire  place  with  an  imported  marble  mantel.  Tall 
mirrors  in  ^t  frames  were  between  the  win- 
dows; the  walnut  furniture  was  upholstered  in 
silk  and  plush.  Several  oil  paintings  hung  on 
the  walls.  In  the  tremendous  clearing  which 
stretched  as  far  as  the  timber  line  on  the  tops 
of  the  ridges  on  all  sides  of  the  mansion,  were 
piles  of  earth,  ore  and  coal,  showing  the  loca- 
tions of  the  mines.  Great  skidways  of  pine  logs 
were  stacked  along  the  roads;  stumps,  lop,  and 
tops  were  everywhere.  There  were  many  dilapi- 
dated workmen's  shanties  most  of  which  looked 
to  be  uninhabited. 

A  negro  butler  had  opened  the  carriage  door, 
and  carried  the  young  Frenchman's  luggage 
into  the  house.  There  was  an  imposing  stair- 
case, with  walnut  bannisters,  and  a  red  carpet, 
up  which  the  youthful  visitor  was  led  to  his 
room.  It  was  a  vast  apartment  with  a  mahog- 
any four-poster  bed  in  the  centre.  There  was 
very  little  furniture  besides,  only  what  was  ab- 
solutely necessary.  On  the  walls  hung  framed 
engravings  of  Queen  Isabella  and  her  mother 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  267 

Christina,  The  butler  deposited  the  baggage 
on  the  floor,  and  threw  open  the  shutters  of  one 
of  the  big  windows.  It  offered  a  superb  pano- 
rama of  endless  ranges  of  mountains,  culminat- 
ing in  the  knob-like  head  of  Mount  Pipsisseway. 

But  there  was  a  loneliness  to  everything  which 
the  young  Frenchman,  globe-trotter  that  he  was, 
could  not  understand.  He  had  a  longing  to  get 
away;  he  feared  that  he  could  not  summon  up 
enough  interest  to  make  his  mission  a  success. 
Accompanied  by  the  Scotch  superintendent  and 
several  of  his  factotums,  visits  were  made  to  the 
mines,  ore-banks  and  logging  camps.  There  was 
plenty  of  available  material,  but  it  looked  to  be 
going  to  waste.  Yet  the  heavy  operating  ex- 
penses still  ran  on. 

After  a  couple  of  days  on  the  'Scootac  a  trip 
to  other  parts  of  the  domain  was  proposed.  This 
time  they  were  to  visit  the  famous  Black  Forest 
where  the  highest  grade  timber  was  standing. 
When  they  came  to  the  railway,  a  train  was 
making  ready  to  start  for  the  East.  Hubert 
could  scarcely  restrain  himself  from  climbing 
on  board,  abandoning  everything  for  his  will  o' 
the  wisp  love.  He  travelled  up  Lick  Run  with  his 


268  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

associates,  passing  many  lumbering  operations. 
Rafts  were  being  built  for  the  fall  floods,  and 
logs  being  piled  on  the  banks  to  be  rolled  in  at 
high  water.  But  these  activities,  it  was  explained 
to  him,  were  on  other  people's  lands.  On  both 
sides  of  the  Coudersport  Pike,  leading  over  to 
the  waters  of  Salmon  Creek,  the  royal  forests 
were  located. 

Fine  as  was  the  timber  on  Tangascootac  it  was 
exceeded  in  every  way  by  what  the  young 
Frenchman  saw  in  the  Black  Forest.  The  hem- 
locks and  pines  grew  to  the  height  of  nearly  two 
hundred  feet,  bare  of  limbs  to  a  height  of  over 
a  hundred  feet,  straight  as  gun-barrels,  and  as 
thick  together  to  use  the  woodsmen's  expression 
"as  hair  on  a  dog's  back." 

The  night  was  spent  at  a  hunter's  cabin  in 
the  primitive  little  village  of  Haneyville,  where 
Hubert  suffered  more  than  ever  from  the  pangs 
of  heart-hungriness.  About  midnight,  he  woke 
up  to  hear  some  pitiful  cries,  like  a  woman  in 
distress,  in  the  dense  wood  across  the  road  from 
the  house.  It  sounded  like  his  own  heart  giving 
vent  to  its  misery.  He  endured  it  as  long  as  he 
could.     Then  he  dressed  and  went  downstairs 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  269 

and  woke  up  a  teamster  who  slept  in  a  bunk  in 
the  kitchen.  The  fellow  who  was  a  Swiss-Ger- 
man, growled  when  the  youth  shook  him,  even- 
tually sitting  up. 

He  listened  to  the  plaintive  cries  for  a  minute 
or  two,  then  he  laid  down  grumbling  about  it 
only  being  "that  damned  hellcramite  of  ben- 
der. ' '  Hubert  divined  that  the  sound  came  from 
some  animal,  so  returned  to  his  room  rather 
sheepishly.  In  the  morning  he  mentioned  the 
subject  at  breakfast. 

"It  might  have  been  a  panther,"  said  an  old 
timber  skidder  who  sat  opposite  to  him  at  the 
table,  "only  it's  the  rarest  thing  when  they 
utter  a  sound  this  early  in  the  year." 

Several  days  were  spent  in  the  Black  Forest, 
and  then  the  young  man  said  he  would  have  to 
go  to  Harrisburg  for  a  few  days  before  begin- 
ning his  actual  work  at  the  properties.  His 
spirit  was  compelling  him  to  renew  his  search 
for  the  illusive  beauty  whom  he  had  seen  ai 
Millersburg.  He  went  as  far  as  the  capital, 
then  turned  about  and  remained  two  days  at 
Millersburg,  without  adding  to  his  hopes. 


270  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

Returning  to  the  'Scootac,  he  remained  until 
shortly  before  Christmas,  preparing  a  report  and 
reorganizing  the  system  of  management,  work- 
ing as  hard  as  he  knew  how.  But  he  did  not 
forget  a  trip  to  Harrisburg,  which  he  took 
soon  after  this  time  and  another  stay  at  Millers- 
burg  only  served  to  deepen  his  anguish.  He  re- 
turned to  the  wilds  only  to  make  similar  trips 
East  in  January,  February  and  March.  The 
Scotch  superintendent,  in  his  stolid  way,  chided 
the  lad  for  having  a  girl  somewhere  otherwise 
he  could  not  grasp  the  idea  why  he  would  want 
to  take  so  many  tedious  car-rides. 

In  April,  he  decided  to  visit  Philadelphia, 
feeling  that  a  big  city  might  ease  the  burden  of 
his  heart  for  a  few  days.  But  he  felt  lonelier 
there  than  ever,  although  he  was  in  the  centre 
of  the  gay  life  at  the  Girard  House.  It  was  to- 
wards the  middle  of  Api;il  when  he  boarded  the 
morning  train  at  the  main  station  of  the  Penn- 
sylvania Railroad,  bound  again  for  the  wilder- 
ness. 

The  winter  had  been  a  long  and  hard  one,  but 
a  few  signs  of  returning  Spring  were  apparent 
east  of  Harrisburg.     Jonquils,  or  as  they  are 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  271 

called  in  the  interior,  "Easter  flowers,"  were 
trying  to  unfold  their  yellow  heads  in  garden 
corners  and  in  old  graveyards,  dandelions  were 
out  in  profusion,  and  the  sunshine  was  expand- 
ing the  buds  of  the  magnolias.  Spice  bushes 
were  a  gleam  of  gold;  the  brown  hillsides  were 
dotted  with  the  snow-like  patches  of  Juneberry 
and  wild  cherry  blossoms.  The  leafless  woods 
were  having  carpets  of  bottle-green  skunk  cab- 
bage laid  for  them.  When  the  car-windows  were 
opened,  a  sweet  odor  of  grass  was  wafted  in, 
or  the  snatch  of  a  robin's  or  a  flicker's  song,  or 
the  metallic  notes  of  the'  hylodes  in  the  bogs. 
Yet  it  was  an  uneventful  journey  at  least  as 
far  as  Harrisburg. 

After  leaving  there,  the  young  man's  heart 
bounded  with  joy,  he  was  on  sacred  ground.  He 
wondered  where  his  fair  one  could  be,  eight 
months  had  passed  since  he  had  seen  her,  and 
their  eyes  had  met!  The  First  Mountain,  like 
a  wall  betwen  him  and  his  heart's  desire,  loomed 
before  him;  as  the  train  moved  through  it,  in 
the  Narrows,  he  realized  that  even  barriers  like 
that  can  be  passed.  There  was  an  old  family 
burying  ground  near  the  shore  of  Paxton  Greek 


272  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

with  the  graves  of  the  slaves  more  humbly 
marked  outside  the  pale.  They  were  shaded  by 
mammoth  chestnut  trees.  This  had  impressed 
him  every  time  he  passed  it;  it  seemed  ever  the 
same  like  his  own  inscrutable  fate. 

The  afternoon  was  becoming  more  golden  and 
clear  cut  as  Stony,  Clark's,  Powell's,  Arm- 
strong's and  Wiconisko  Creeks  wore  passed.  His 
heart  beat  fast  when  the  last  was  crossed  over. 
He  could  see  the  old  buttonwood  tree  under 
which  he  had  so  often  sat  waiting  for  the  trains 
to  whistle. 

The  usual  stop  was  made  at  quaint  old  Millers- 
burg;  he  could  see  the  swarthy  agent  on  the 
platform  putting  on  the  mail  bag,  the  merry 
throng  greeting  or  God-speeding  their  friends. 
Then  Liverpool  hove  in  sight  with  its  great  body 
of  dead  water,  which  the  natives  called  the 
"Irish  Sea,"  and  the  little  town  on  the  distant 
shore;  and  just  beyond  the  western  slopes  of 
mighty  Mahantango  Mountain,  the  curious  little 
village  of  the  same  name.  Then  the  beautiful 
oak-shaded  Mahantango  Creek  came  in  view, 
with  Halcyons  darting  over  the  smooth  waters, 
symbols  of  peacte  and  the  golden  hour.    On  one 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  273 

side  were  the  sun-kissed  mountains,  the  other 
side  the  broad,  brave  river  frowning  anon  for 
lack  of  similar  favors.  Great  grey  clouds  banked 
themselves  against  the  sun,  even  shutting  it  off 
from  the  favored  summits. 

A  few  red  rays  of  sunset,  then  all  was  over  as 
far  as  day  was  concerned.  Dusk  set  in  quickly, 
for  the  newly-born  Spring  day  was  tired. 
Mahanoy  Creek,  deep,  sullen,  and  intense  was 
crossed,  a  wild  swan  was  flying  down  it,  a  pall 
was  settling  like  a  coming  storm.  Cattle  moved 
uneasily  towards  the  overshoots  of  the  big  red 
barns.  The  wind  swayed  the  streamers  of  a  pre- 
cocious-leafed weeping  willow,  near  an  old  log 
house. 

The  portly,  immaculately  attired  conductor  rose 
in  his  seat  and  languidly  pulled  the  signal  cord 
with  his  gloved  hand.  ' '  Fisher 's  Ferry, ' '  he  called 
out  once,  scorning  to  repeat  the  name  because  of 
its  lack  of  importance  as  a  station  stop.  It  had 
become  quite  dark.  Just  as  the  train  was  slow- 
ing down,  Hubert  Le  Grand  looked  out  of  the 
car  window.  The  lights  were  being  lit  in  a  digni- 
fied old  stone  house,  which  stood  on  the  river 
bank.    There  Was  a  flash  and  a  gleam  of  warm, 


274  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

yellow  light,  several  faces  stood  clearly  revealed 
by  it.  A  young  girl,  with  clear-cut  features,  ash 
blonde,  broadfaced,  slender,  beautiful,  was  gaz- 
ing out  of  a  rear  window,  which  opened  upon  the 
blowy,  night-swept  river.  Wonder  of  wonders! 
Hubert  Le  Grand,  jumping  from  his  seat, 
pressed  his  face  against  the  sash.  It  was  the 
girl  he  had  seen  and  loved  the  year  before,  who 
had  left  the  train  at  Millersburg.  Gathering 
together  his  overcoat,  stick  and  portmanteau,  he 
lost  no  time  in  leaving  the  train  at  Fisher's 
Ferry. 


XIII. 

HUGH  MITCHELTREE. 

(A  Story  of  the  Genesee  Fork). 

HEN  Hugh  Mitcheltree,  cursing 
and  yelling,  was  carried  off  by 
six  Indians  in  full  view  and 
range  of  the  terrified  garrison 
of  Pom  fret  Castle,  a  fort  built 
for  defense  against  the  savages  on  the  headwaters 
of  Upper  Mahantango  Creek,  in  what  is  now 
Snyder  County,  it  was  generally  supposed  that  he 
was  taken  to  some  secluded  grove  to  be  scalped 
and  tortured  to  death,  much  as  crows  fly  with  a 
chicken  to  a  mountain  top  where  they  can  pick  it 
to  pieces  unmolested.  But  far  from  such  being 
the  case,  he  was  not  killed  at  all. 

This  stalwart,  red-headed  Irishman  had  left 
the  fort  one  evening  and  crossed  the  little  creek 
which  flowed  beside  it,  to  fodder  his  cattle  which 
he  kept  in  a  log-stockade  on  the  opposite  bank; 
back  of  the  cattle-pen  was  the  forest,  which  also 
extended  to  the  rear  of  the  fort.    While  he  was 

27B 


276  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

feeding  the  animals  the  Indians  were  crouching 
at  the  edge  of  the  woods.  As  he  emerged  from 
the  enclosure  they  rushed  forward  from  both 
sides,  closing  in  on  their  victim,  and  picking  him 
up  on  their  powerful  shoulders  as  though  he 
were  a  sack  of  flour.  Mitcheltree  called  loudly 
for  assistance,  as  but  fifteen  minutes  earlier  he 
had  left  ten  sturdy  frontiersmen  armed  with 
rifles  in  the  fort.  The  men  appeared  at  the  gun- 
holes,  but  were  apparently  too  panic-stricken  to 
shoot.  The  captive  added  curses  to  his  reper- 
toire of  yells,  but  nothing  could  flinch  the  red- 
men  in  their  purpose  of  carrying  him  away. 

After  the  captors  had  vanished  from  sight  in 
the  dense  timber  at  the  rear  of  the  fort,  the 
valiant  defenders  came  out,  looking  around 
wildly,  and  brandishing  their  fire-arms.  They 
loosed  their  dogs,  which  took  up  the  trail,  but 
this  accomplished  no  purpose,  as  the  frontiers- 
men refused  to  follow  them.  The  winter  night 
soon  closed  in  on  the  scene,  and  the  garrison  of 
Pomfret  Castle  huddled  about  their  blazing  fire, 
apparently  more  anxious  to  keep  warm  than  to 
rescue  their  fellow  guardsman.  As  no  commis- 
sioned officers  we're  present  at  this  deplorabre 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  277 

piece  of  cowardice,  this  true  story  might  never 
have  been  known  had  not  several  of  the  men 
revealed  it  themselves  when  they  became  very 
old  and  childish,  long  years  afterwards. 

Hugh  Mitcheltree  belonged  to  a  numerous 
family,  who  had  arrived  in  Central  Pennsyl- 
vania from  Donegal  in  Ireland,  about  1740.  At 
the  time  of  Hugh's  disappearance  in  1756,  he 
was  in  his  twenty-first  year.  His  father,  known 
as  "old  Patt"  was  dead,  but  his  mother,  Cathe- 
rine, who  was  an  unusually  forceful  woman,  his 
brother,  "young  Patt,"  and  other  brothers  and 
sisters  afterwards  raised  quite  an  outcry  over 
the  Indians'  audacity.  But  even  they  did  not , 
know  that  he  had  been  carried  off  without  a 
single  shot  having  been  passed  in  his  defense. 

To  avenge  his  probable  death,  the  Mitcheltree 
boys,  seven  in  number,  became  an  unofficial  band 
of  Indian  fighters,  shooting  down  any  redmen 
whom  they  encountered  during  their  wanderings 
in  the  forests.  "Young  Patt"  Mitcheltree  was 
considered  one  of  the  most  expert  riflemen  of  his 
generation,  and  was  feared  by  the  savages.  In 
appearance  he  was  different  from  the  lamented 
Hugh,  being  smaU  and  dark,  with  piercing  steel 


278  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

grey  eyes.  He  was  said  to  resemble  his  mother's 
family,  the  McGuigans.  Young  Patt  catechized 
the  garrison,  but  they  declared  that  they  did  not 
know  the  identity  of  a  single  Indian  concerned 
in  the  dastardly  act.  They  knew  whom  most 
of  the  "bad"  Indians  were  who  frequented  the 
Shade,  Jack's  and  Firestone  Mountains,  and  had 
names  for  them,  but  Hugh 's  kidnappers  could  be 
none  of  these.  They  described  them  as  six  very 
tall,  very  dark  complexioned  warriors,  dressed 
differently  from  any  Indians  they  had  ever  seen. 
They  seemed  to  have  no  guns,  but  carried  scalp- 
ing knives  in  their  belts.  It  was  all  over  so 
quickly,  and  the  hour  was  so  late,  that  their  shots 
went  wide,  they  solemnly  averred. 

Old  Mother  Mitcheltree  became  possessed  with 
the  one  idea  of  finding  her  boy,  she  could  talk, 
think  or  dream  of  nothing  else.  She  believed 
that  he  was  being  held  for  ransom,  but  up  to 
the  time  of  her  death,  which  occurred  when  she 
was  over  eighty-six  years  of  age,  no  news  direct 
or  indirect  had  come  in.  She  liked  to  talk  to  an 
old  German  witch-doctress,  named  Granny  See- 
bold,  who  lived  on  the  Susquehanna,  near  New 
Buffalo,  who  was  always  reassuring  her  that  her 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  279 

boy  was  alive  and  well.  But  the  rest  of  the 
family,  including  young  Patt,  in  time  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  Hugh  had  been  done  away 
with.  His  disappearance  formed  an  absorbing 
topic  of  conversation  as  time  went  on,  and  it  be- 
gan to  take  its  place  in  history. 

When  children  wanted  to  go  out  after  dark, 
their  parents  frightened  them  by  saying  that 
they  would  be  carried  off  by  Indians  "like 
Hughey  Mitcheltree. "  In  that  way,  the  cap- 
tive 's  name  became  a  household  word ;  he  became 
more  famous  than  if  he  had  served  his  time  in 
the  rangers  for  the  defense  of  the  colony,  and 
then  retired  to  a  hum-drum  life  on  some  remote 
hill-top  farm. 

As  to  the  actual  fate  of  Mitcheltree,  it  is  pre- 
served by  the  Seneca  Indians  whose  ancestors 
carried  him  away,  and  by  a  few  of  the  old 
settlers  in  the  Black  Forest,  who  heard  it  from 
their  parents  and  grand-parents.  The  actual 
story  began  over  a  year  before  the  young  man 
was  kidnapped.  At  that  time,  he  was  living  on 
his  mother's  farm,  which  was  close  to  the  west 
bank  of  the  Susquehanna,  at  the  present  village 
of  McKee's  Half  Falls.    The  Mitcheltree  home- 


280  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

stead,  a  commodious  log  structure  stood  on  the 
left  side  of  the  old  stone  tavern,  famous  in  later 
days  when  run  by  "Jumbo"  Karstetter  for  its 
chicken  and  waffle  suppers. 

On  the  trail  which  followed  along  the  river, 
emigrants,  soldiers,  travelers,  packers,  and  In- 
dians were  constantly  passing.  Many  delega- 
tions of  distinguished  redmen  were  among  the 
numbers  on  their  way  to  or  from  visits  to  the 
provincial  authorities  at  Philadelphia  or  Har- 
ris's Ferry.  They  were  mostly  protestants 
against  the  usurpation  of  their  lands  by  the 
whites,  and  generally  their  attitude  eastward 
bound  at  least  was  decidedly  belligerent.  In 
many  cases,  they  were  flattered  and  bribed  by 
the  Indian  agents  and  Quakers  in  power,  so  that 
they  assumed  a  milder  air  when  working  their 
way  homeward.  Sometimes  they  traveled  in 
canoes  or  batteaus,  but  many  made  the  long 
journeys  on  foot. 

There  was  a  great  elm  tree,  bigger  than  the 
historic  one  at  Shackamaxon,  which  grew  over  an 
eddy,  famous  for  its  shad  fishery,  across  the 
trail  from  the  Mitcheltree  abode.  Some  even 
said  that  the  family  name  had  been  originally 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  281 

Mitehel,  but  the  Indians  and  others  had  re- 
ferred to  stopping  so  often  under  the  ''Mitehel 
tree ' '  that  the  compound  name  had  resulted.  At 
any  rate,  the  huge  wide-spreading  elm  was  a 
favorite  resting  place  for  the  traveling  Indians 
during  the  mid-day  heat.  They  often  slept  there 
from  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  until 
sunset,  and  resumed  their  journeys  in  the  cool 
of  the  evening. 

The  Mitcheltree  family  were  always  on  friend- 
ly terms  with  the  savages,  especially  big  burly 
Hugh.  This  impressive  looking  youth  had  a 
shock  of  stiff  red  hair,  pale  blue  eyes,  a  big  nose, 
full  lips  and  a  freckled  face.  He  was  as  strong 
as  an  ox;  even  when  in  his  teens  he  weighed 
two  hundred  pounds,  which  filled  out  his  frame 
very  well,  for  he  stood  over  six  feet  in  height. 
All  the  Indians  liked  him,  and  his  name  was 
passed  on  among  them  as  being  a  particularly 
fair-minded  and  honorable  white  man. 

Among  the  Indian  embassies  which  passed 
down  the  trail  was  one  headed  by  a  skilful  Sen- 
eca diplomat,  named  New  Arrow;  in  later  years 
he  was  famed  for  his  polished  addresses  to 
Presidents  Washington  and  Jefferson.     He  was 


282  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

an  intimate  friend  of  the  mighty  chieftains, 
Cornplant  and  Bed  Jacket.  With  a  dozen  al- 
most equally  illustrious  of  his  tribesmen,  such  as 
Young  King,  Little  Billy,  Seneca  "White,  Tall 
Peter  and  Henry  Two  Guns,  he  visited  Philadel- 
phia to  protest  against  some  atrocities  com- 
mitted against  his  people  by  the  whites.  The 
wives  and  sisters  of  some  of  the  Indians  accom- 
panied them.  They  were  men  and  women  all 
magnificently  attired,  wearing  feathers,  beads, 
gold  nose  and  ear-rings,  and  vari-colored 
blankets. 

One  day  they  stopped  for  their  siesta  under 
the  Mitchel  Tree.  In  the  party  was  New  Ar- 
row's beautiful  sister,  the  Princess  Sasapah,  or 
The  Firefly.  At  this  time  she  was  a  girl  of  about 
eighteen  years,  rather  slim  and  under  the 
medium  size.  But  she  was  graceful  and  spright- 
ly, and  possessed  a  beautiful  pair  of  black  eyes 
and  an  expressive  countenance.  She  was  always 
tastefully  dressed,  and  wore  red  birds'  wings  in 
her  hair.  She  was  what  might  be  called  a  ''wide- 
awake" for  while  the  other  Indians  were  sleep- 
ing she  was  looking  about  her.  She  noticed  the 
big  red-headed  Irish  boy,  and  fell  violently  in 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  283 

love  with  him.  In  every  way  possible  she  made 
glances  and  sought  to  form  his  acquaintance,  but 
he  was  as  shy  as  a  faun,  and  could  not  be  capti- 
vated. 

The  princess  was  piqued  and  heartbroken,  but 
said  nothing  to  her  party,  with  whom  she  re- 
sumed the  easterly  tramp  at  sundown.  But  she 
thought  of  naught  else  but  the  huge  ' '  strawberry 
blonde"  during  the  entire  sojourn  in  Philadel- 
phia, which  lasted  several  months. 

It  was  faU  when  they  started  homeward,  hav- 
ing been  mollified  by  gifts  and  promises,  as  well 
as  liberal  entertainment.  New  Arrow  and 
Young  King,  the  two  wisest  of  the  party  secretly 
felt  that  they  had  been  hoodwinked,  as  after  they 
left  the  Quaker  City  they  ''took  stock"  and 
found  little  else  but  glittering  generalities  in 
their  packs.  Some  of  the  Indians  and  their  wo- 
men had  acquired  a  taste  for  liquors,  and 
marched  along  in  maudlin  fashion,  not  knowing 
or  caring  whether  or  not  their  mission  had  been 
successful.  The  only  actually  happy  and  hope- 
ful person  in  the  whole  aggregation  was  the 
sprightly  Sasapah.    As  she  neared  the  Mitchel 


284  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

Tree  she  began  humming  an  old  Seneca  love- 
song. 

The  Indians,  with  so  little  to  show  for  their 
long  absence,  were  in  no  hurry  to  arrive  at  their 
homes,  so  they  gladly  accepted  the  princess's 
suggestion  that  they  spend  a  day  under  the  giant 
elm.  It  was  a  bleak,  windy  day,  and  yellow 
leaves  were  blowing  about,  so  they  built  several 
small  fires  to  warm  themselves.  Again  Sasapah 
saw  Hugh  Mitcheltree,  seeking  to  charm  him 
with  every  artifice  that  nature  had  given  her. 
But  the  husky  Irish  lad  only  blushed  and 
skulked  away  back  of  the  log-barn.  In  his  heart 
he  too  was  smitten,  but  as  he  knew  not  a  single 
word  of  the  redmen's  dialect,  he  considered  that 
becoming  acquainted  with  nothing  to  say  would 
only  make  him  seem  foolish. 

This  time  Sasapah  had  a  hard  task  in  keeping 
back  her  tears  when  the  march  began  again. 
She  feared  that  she  would  never  more  see  her 
red-headed  youth.  Everything  she  had  wanted 
since  childhood  had  been  given  her;  she  wanted 
the  Irish  boy  because  he  seemed  hard  to  get. 
She  was  even  thinner  than  when  she  had  first 
rested  under  the  big  tree.    She  had  difficulty  in 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  285 

eating  and  sleeping,  her  romance  weighed  so 
heavily  upon  her.  New  Arrow  noticed  her 
altered  appearance,  but  attributed  it  to  home- 
sickness, and  the  change  of  water  and  food.  She 
sulked  most  of  the  time,  also  flying  into  violent 
tempers.  All  these  were  signs  that  she  was  in 
love,  it  was  like  the  clucking  irratability  of  a 
hen  that  wants  to  set,  but  her  brother  was  too 
dense  to  comprehend.  But  he  had  his  own 
troubles. 

It  would  be  hard  to  face  the  Council  of  Chiefs 
with  a  report  consisting  of  what  this  Quaker 
said  he  would  do,  and  what  that  Quaker  said 
would  never  be  done  again.  When  they  reached 
the  headquarters  on  the  upper  reaches  of  Tia- 
daghton,  Sasapah  was  so  weak  and  miserable 
that  she  could  barely  walk.  Soon  after  arriving 
home,  she  took  to  her  couch,  sinking  into  a  kind 
of  stupor  or  trance.  Medicine  men  and  wise 
men  were  summoned,  who  declared  that  she  had 
caught  "tide- water  fever."  They  gave  her  all 
kinds  of  drastic  medicines,  and  sweated  her  in  a 
bank  of  clay,  which  all  but  killed  her. . 

"When  she  realized  that  she  would  succumb  to 
such  misdirfecte'd  treatment,  she  confessed  to  her 


286  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

brother,  New  Arrow,  of  whom  she  was  very 
fond,  that  she  was  in  love  with  a  white  man. 
She  described  his  looks,  and  that  he  lived  in  the 
log-house  which  stood  across  the  trail  from  the 
big  elm  where  they  had  rested  going  to  and 
coming  from  Philadelphia.  She  must  have  the 
youth  brought  to  her,  else  she  would  surely  die. 
New  Arrow  said  that  it  would  give  him 
pleasure  to  meet  her  wish.  The  big  elm  was  in 
the  territory  of  the  Lenni-Lenape,  who  were 
often  unfriendly  to  the  Mingoes,  but  he  would 
send  a  band  of  selected  warriors  to  capture  the 
red-headed  boy.  He  sent  for  George  Silverheels, 
a  young  brave  who  had  been  in  the  party,  and 
asked  him  if  he  recalled  any  such  big  fiery- 
headed  youth.  The  Indian  said  that  he  did ;  the 
lad  was  Hugh  Mitcheltree,  whose  mother  owned 
the  elm,  or  Mitchel  Tree.  New  Arrow  therefore 
chose  Silverheels  to  lead  the  party  of  kidnap- 
pers. They  were  cautioned  to  move  through  the 
country  carefully,  and  not  make  their  presence 
known  to  white  men  or  Lenni-Lenape.  They 
were  to  locate  the  youth  at  his  home  or  wher- 
ever he  might  be,  and  wait  until  a  good  chance 
arrtvfeti  t5  cai)'!!!!^^  him  sc\b^.    Thtiy  w^d  td  db 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  287 

this  even  if  they  remained  away  a  year ;  but  they 
must  bring  him  back  in  that  time  without  harm- 
ing a  hair  in  his  head. 

It  was  a  diflficult  errand,  but  the  sagacious 
braves  who  made  up  the  party  were  sanguine  of 
success.  Their  departure  reduced  Sasapah's 
malady  to  the  point  of  convalescing.  She  was  up 
and  about  within  a  week  afterwards,  actually 
beginning  to  hum  love  songs  again.  She  was 
confident  of  having  her  lover  brought  to  her ;  she 
wanted  to  be  healthy,  and  good-looking  to  charm 
him.  Every  night  she  dreamed  about  him;  he 
was  such  a  superb  creature  that  in  her  fancy  she 
called  him  Sissilijah,  or  the  Powerful-Buffa- 
lo-Who-Butts-Against-and-Breaks-Everything-to- 
Pieces,  as  typifying  his  massive  animal  strength. 
Sassapah  idealized  him  in  no  end  of  ways.  She 
was  in  a  delirium  of  love,  which  grew  more  in- 
tense as  the  time  drew  near  for  the  kidnapping 
party  to  return. 

Meanwhile  these  Indians  under  George  Silver- 
heels'  leadership  were  having  plenty  of  excite- 
ment. First  of  all,  they  blundered  into  a  camp 
of  Lenni-Lenape  on  Pine  Creek,  a  branch  of 
Kkl*DDiidinh&.     A  skirmish  (jccurred  in  which 


288  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

they  killed  three  of  their  enemies,  including  the 
chief,  One  Kalasunay,  and  George  Silverheels 
himself  was  badly  wounded  in  his  left  thigh. 
The  injury  left  him  lame  to  his  dying  day,  which 
occurred  many  years  later,  when  he  was  nearly 
a  hundred  years  old. 

This  made  it  necessary  to  move  with  greater 
caution  than  ever,  and  they  hid  in  the  Seven 
Mountains  in  Coxe's  Valley  for  a  month  before 
it  was  safe  to  venture  forth  again.  They  had  to 
leave  that  remote  fastness  because  they  were  seen 
by  some  white  land-prospectors  who  opened  fire 
on  them,  wounding  another  of  their  party  ser- 
iously, and  they  escaped  into  the  inaccessible 
thickets  of  Green's  Valley,  hiding  there  for  an- 
other month. 

When  at  length  they  reconnoitered  about  the 
Mitchel  Tree,  they  learned  that  their  prize  had 
left  home,  having  volunteered  to  join  the  gar- 
rison at  Pomfret  Castle.  Hugh  was  a  thrifty 
lad,  for  he  took  his  cattle  with  him,  and  during 
his  periods  of  inactivity  tended  to  the  animals 
in  the  pen  which  he  had  built  across  the  Ma- 
hantango  from  the  fort. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  289 

George  Silverheels  and  his  party  wasted  most 
of  the  summer  waiting  for  a  chance  to  seize  their 
prey,  but  the  Irish  boy  seldom  went  from  the 
fort  unattended.  When  he  went  out  to  feed  his 
stock,  he  was  usually  guarded  by  a  dozen  eager 
men  inside.  So  much  time  elapsed  that  Silver- 
heels  decided  to  send  an  Indian  back  to  Princess 
Sasapah  to  tell  her  of  the  difficulties  encount- 
ered, but  that  the  young  man  had  been  located 
and  would  be  eventually  taken  captive  without 
any  shedding  of  blood.  This  Indian  was  shot 
at  three  times  on  the  way,  but  he  seemed  to  bear 
a  charmed  life,  as  he  reached  the  princess  in 
safety,  telling  her  his  cheering  story.  She  sent 
him  back  with  a  message  of  confidence  to  his 
chief. 

Winter  was  coming  on  and  Silverheels  and  his 
aides  were  becoming  desperate.  Mitcheltree 
must  have  had  an  inkling  of  danger,  otherwise 
why  was  he  so  timid  in  his  movements.  At  var- 
ious times,  the  skulking  savages  could  have  cap- 
tured every  other  member  of  the  garrison.  One 
night,  when  they  were  sick  and  tired  of  waiting, 
and  hiding  half-starved  in  a  strange  country, 
surrtoTinded   by   enemies   red   and   white,   they 


290  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

resolved  to  carry  their  prey  away  by  sheer  force 
in  full  view  of  the  garrison.  Even  if  a  few  of 
their  party  were  shot,  it  would  be  better  than 
to  lose  their  man  altogether,  and  be  executed 
upon  returning  to  the  princess  empty-handed. 

When  Mitcheltree  went  into  his  cattle-pen  to 
do  his  feeding  they  watched  him  until  he  came 
out,  then  they  made  a  sortie,  picking  him  up  in 
their  brawny  arms  in  full  view  of  the  dumb- 
founded garrison.  To  their  even  greater  sur- 
prise, not  a  shot  was  fired,  as  they  carried  the 
prisoner  away  shrieking  and  yelling  for  help 
within  the  trajectory  of  every  firearm  in  the 
fort.  The  garrison  was  so  taken-aback  by  the 
bold  conduct  of  the  strange-looking  savages 
that  not  a  man  of  them  could  fire  his  gun.  It 
was  like  "buck  fever,"  a  disease  experienced  by 
many  huntsmen  and  descendants  of  these  hardy 
guardians  of  rights  and  liberties  upon  seeing 
their  first  antlered  stag  in  the  forest. 

As  soon  as  a  quiet  nook  in  the  woods  was 
reached,  the  captive  was  bound  and  gagged,  then 
taken  to  the  Mingoes'  camp  in  the  Shade  Moun- 
tains. There  it  was  explained  to  him  that  he  was 
to  go  on  a  Ibn^  jolinifey  tb  the  nttrth;    If  hfe  wient 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  291 

willingly  his  pinions,  but  not  his  gag  would  be 
removed.  If  he  wanted  to  make  trouble,  he 
would  be  carried  bound  and  gagged  the  entire 
distance.  Mitcheltree  was  game  under  any  cir- 
cumstances, and  quickly  declared  his  intention 
of  acting  decently  if  allowed  to  walk  freely  on 
the  journey.  He  had  a  jolly  way  with  him  that 
the  redmen  liked,  so  he  became  a  prime  favorite 
on  the  long  tramp  to  the  big  Mingo  encampment 
on  Tiadaghton,  near  the  mouth  of  Upper  Trout 
Run. 

Near  the  journey's  end,  the  gag  was  removed, 
and  Silverheels  confided  to  him  that  he  was  ex- 
pected to  marry  an  Indian  princess,  so  as  to  put 
him  in  the  proper  frame  of  mind.  Quick  as  a 
flash,  the  Irish  boy  asked  if  she  was  the  beautiful 
maiden  who  wore  the  red  bird  wings  in  her  hair, 
whom  he  had  seen  on  two  occasions  at  the  rendez- 
vous under  the  big  tree  near  his  old  home.  The 
meaning  of  his  capture  had  dawned  on  his  in- 
tuitive Celtic  mind. 

Silverheels  answered  in  the  affirmative,  which 
greatly  pleased  the  future  bridegroom.  He 
danced  about,  and  walked  twice  as  fast  as  be- 
fore. 


292  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

When  they  were  within  twenty  miles  of  Sasa- 
pah's  home,  a  runner  was  sent  on  ahead  to  ac- 
quaint the  princess  of  her  lover's  coming,  so 
that  she  could  array  herself  for  the  occasion, 
and  have  a  feast  in  readiness.  When,  breathless, 
the  Indian  told  her  the  good  news,  she  was  be- 
side herself  with  joy.  Adjusting  the  red  feath- 
ers in  her  coal-black  hair,  she  insisted  on  walk- 
ing several  miles  down  the  trail  so  as  to  be  the 
first  to  greet  him.  She  waited  under  another 
giant  elm,  which  grew  close  to  the  bank  of  Tia- 
daghton,  building  a  fire  to  warm  her  pretty  pink 
hands. 

Towards  evening,  Mitcheltree  and  his  escort 
hove  in  sight.  Sasapah  gave  a  little  scream  of 
joy,  and  rushed  forward,  throwing  herself  in  her 
stalwart  lover's  arms.  The  youth  gave  a  shout 
of  sheer  happiness.  The  scene,  as  described  af- 
terwards by  Silverheels,  was  said  to  have  been  so 
affecting  that  all  of  the  Indian  braves  broke 
down,  weeping  like  children. 

Sasapah  and  her  lover  walked  back  to  the  big 
encampment  hand  in  hand  like  two  happy  chil- 
dren. Silverheels  and  the  others  filed  on  ahead. 
It  w'as  late  at  night  when  they  reache'd  the  s^rttle- 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  293 

ment,  but  watch-fires  were  blazing,  and  all  the 
redskins,  old  and  young,  were  out  in  gala  attire. 
Several  carcasses  of  elks  were  roasting,  and  at 
the  royal  fireplace  panther  chops,  an  especial 
delicacy,  were  being  spitted.  When  the  happy 
company  appeared,  a  great  shouting  of  "Joh 
Hoh,  Joh  Hoh,"  an  Indian  exclamation  of  joy, 
made  the  woods  ring.  Then  a  number  of 
maidens  advanced  forward,  forming  a  circle 
about  the  lovers,  dancing  and  singing  touching 
love  ditties.  The  great  chief  New  Arrow  em- 
braced his  new  brother-in-law,  and  led  him  to 
the  feast.  The  whole  night  was  spent  in  danc- 
ing, singing,  shouting  and  eating. 

The  next  morning,  Hugh  Mitcheltree  was 
adopted  into  the  tribe,  and  in  the  afternoon  his 
marriage  with  Princess  Sasapah  was  solemnized 
with  great  pomp  and  ceremony.  He  took  the  name 
of  Sissilijah,  or  thePowerful-BuJffalo-Who-Butts- 
Against-and-Breaks-Everything-to-Pieces.  The 
union  was  a  happy  one.  A  number  of  chil- 
dren were  born.  Sissilijah  became  an  Indian 
in  everything  except  in  coloring.  He  was 
one  of  the  greatest  hunters  of  his  day.  When 
the  white  settlers  and  trappers  threatened  to 


294  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

preempt  the  fertile  patches  of  ground  along  the 
clear  waters  of  Tiadaghton,  he  moved  with  his 
family  to  the  Genesee  Fork  of  the  same  Creek, 
which  was  in  the  depths  of  the  Black  Forest. 
There  he  was  seldom  seen  by  the  whites.  The 
few  who  did  encounter  him  in  the  wilderness 
called  him  the  "Pale  Indian."  As  he  grew 
older,  he  shunned  the  neighborhoods  where  w^hite 
men  might  frequent,  and  in  every  way  sought  to 
prove  that  he  belonged  to  the  Indian  race.  But 
there  are  some  who  say  that  towards  the  end  of 
his  life,  about  the  year  1816,  he  stained  his  sun- 
burned face  to  make  it  look  darker,  and  traveled 
on  foot  to  New  Buffalo,  where  he  visited  the 
grave  of  his  mother  in  the  old  Presbyterian  cem- 
etery near  the  ''dreamy  Susquehanna." 


XIV. 

GEORGE  SHOVER'S  PANTHER. 
(A  Story  of  Little  Miller  Run.) 

T  was  on  Christmas  Eve  that 
the  residents  of  Haneyville  be- 
came aware  of  the  existence  of 
a  "painter"  on  the  Long 
Mountain,  which  formed  the  di- 
vide between  the  waters  flowing  towards  Tia- 
daghton  and  to  the  Susquehanna.  It  was  a 
strange  visitor,  and  very  unlike  Kriss  Kingle, 
that  calm,  clear,  moon-lit  night  in  1864.  Far 
out  on  the  very  comb  of  the  bold  ridge  the  love- 
sick brute  poured  out  his  anguish  to  the  wilder- 
ness. By  midnight,  everybody  in  the  little  ham- 
let was  wide  awake.  The  young  men  and  half 
grown  boys  crawled  into  beds  together,  already 
planning  hunting  trips. 

The  women  and  children,  so  used  to  the  legend 
of  the  Pennsylvania  lion 's  ferocity,  covered  their 
heads  with  the  bed  clothes.  To  the  old  men  the 
weird  cries  brought  back  memories  of  other  days, 

296 


296  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

when  they  fought  panthers  and  wolves  for  the 
supremacy  of  the  Black  Forest.  Until  the  morn- 
ing star  grew  dim  the  panther's  song  continued, 
stopping  sometimes  for  half  an  hour  to  await  an 
answering  call,  only  to  resume  again  in  a  sadder 
key  which  seemed  impatient  towards  the  end. 
How  another  panther  had  gotten  into  this  coun- 
try which  was  beginning  to  teem  with  lumber- 
men and  hunters  was  a  puzzle  to  the  old  men  who 
listened  to  it.  It  had  either  been  driven  south 
by  dogs,  or  else  had  some  inkling  that  a  mate 
existed  in  the  Alleghenies  or  the  Bald  Eagles. 

At  any  rate,  it  had  taken  its  stand,  determined 
to  find  a  companion  if  one  existed  in  the  endless 
ranges  of  mountains  which  undulated  one  behind 
the  other  in  interlocking  lines  fading  into  a  dim 
line  against  the  Southern  sky.  But  barely  had 
the  panther  finished  his  wailing  when  several 
bands  of  hunters,  carrying  rifles,  and  holding 
bull-dogs  on  leash  were  leaving  the  settlement 
for  the  Northern  ridges,  in  the  stillness  of  that 
Christmas  morning.  It  was  a  picturesque  scene 
to  be  sure,  the  tall  pines  and  hemlocks  which 
still  grew  close  to  the  northern  side  of  the  Cou- 
dersport  Pike  were  weighted  down  with  snow, 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  297 

the  cottages  and  fields  were  white,  the  dark  fig- 
ures of  the  hunters,  who  cracked  the  frosty  cov- 
ering with  their  boots.  That  and  an  occasional 
Jay  bird's  nervous  cry  were  the  only  sounds 
which  broke  the  wintry  silence.  But  the  hunts- 
men found  no  satisfaction  on  the  ridges.  The 
four  parties  formed  in  the  Conaway,  Packard, 
Lovett  and  Glover  families  operated  independ- 
ently, but  did  not  locate  even  the  panther's 
tracks. 

A  light  skiff  of  snow  had  fallen  at  daybreak, 
but  even  that  ought  not  have  obscured  the  foot- 
prints so  completely.  It  looked  as  if  the  pan- 
ther's cries  had  come  from  mountains  still  fur- 
ther north  and  had  been  amplified  and  reverbe- 
rated by  the  calm  of  the  atmosphere  and  the 
high  altitude.  The  hunters  returned  to  their 
homes  to  eat  a  belated  "snack"  long  after  dark, 
having  missed  their  weighty  Christmas  dinners. 

One  hunter,  Moses  Button,  remained  in  a 
shanty  on  the  slope  of  the  Long  Mountain  all 
night.  All  the  nimrods  and  their  families  were 
on  the  qui  vive  that  night,  thinking  that  they 
would  be  able  to  locate  the  exact  spot  from  which 
the  plaintive  cries  emanated.     But  the  panther 


298  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

was  silent.  There  was  not  a  sound,  except  when 
towards  morning  a  steady  wind  swayed  into 
doleful  music  the  shaggy,  ice-laden  boughs  of  the 
original  pines  and  hemlocks.  Nothing  further 
was  heard  from  the  panther  for  over  a  week,  to 
be  exact  until  the  night  of  the  second  of  Janu- 
ary. The  good  people  of  Haneyville  had  about 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  animal  was  a 
"wanderer,"  a  type  of  panther  with  no  fixed 
abode  which  travelled  north  and  south  at  all 
times  of  the  year.  These  were  said  by  the  old 
hunters  to  be  somewhat  smaller  in  size  than  pan- 
thers which  remained  in  the  vicinity  of  dens  or 
eaves  on  some  particular  mountain. 

On  the  night  in  question,  two  young  men, 
Francis  Dyer  and  Johnny  Angevine,  who  resid- 
ed five  miles  beyond  Haneyville  near  one  of  the 
sources  of  Young  Woman 's  Creek,  had  been  call- 
ing on  two  young  ladies,  sisters,  whose  home  was 
at  the  foot  of  Grindstone  Hill  about  three  miles 
east  of  the  settlement.  They  left  their  friends' 
cottage  at  midnight  the  night  being  bright  and 
frosty,  driving  a  horse  hitched  to  a  small,  old- 
fashioned  bob-sled.  About  a  mile  beyond  their 
starting  place  they  passed  a  small  clearing,  in 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  299 

which  stood  the  ruins  of  a  lumberman's  camp. 
To  quote  a  contemporary  account,  ''Just  as  the 
clearing  receded  from  the  view,  the  young  fel- 
lows were  startled  by  the  loud  cry  of  a  panther, 
coming  from  a  thicket  by  the  road-side.  The 
dry  limbs  cracked  as  the  enormous  creature 
sprang  into  the  road  behind  them.  The  moon 
shone  brightly  down  among  the  opening  tree- 
tops,  as  over  the  snow-covered  road,  steep  and 
icy  the  trembling  horse  hurried  the  sled  along. 
Deeper  and  further  the  forest  closed  up  behind 
the  frightened  lads,  leaving  in  their  opinion 
little  chance  to  reach  Haneyville  in  safety.  Turn- 
ing their  eyes  backwards,  the  approaching  form 
of  the  huge  panther  could  be  seen  within  almost 
a  stone's  throw  leaping  along  at  a  rate  which 
corresponded  to  their  own.  The  silence  of  the 
woods,  the  sounds  of  the  horse 's  feet,  the  crunch- 
ing of  the  sled-runners  on  the  frozen  snow,  the 
terribly  distinct  yells  of  the  pursuing  animal 
breaking  in  upon  the  surrounding  gloom,  and 
their  own  defenseless  condition,  made  a  terrible 
impression  upon  the  young  fugitives'  minds. 

"They  shot  down  hill  after  hill,  around  curve 
after  curve,  without  uttering  a  sound  or  hardly 


300  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

drawing  a  breath,  expecting  every  moment  that 
the  sled  would  be  racked  to  pieces  on  some  pro- 
jecting stone  or  that  every  spring  of  the  pan- 
ther would  enable  him  to  overtake  them.  For 
over  two  miles  the  panther's  chase  continued, 
giving,  as  it  advanced,  its  clear,  appalling  cries 
at  intervals  of  every  minute.  When  the  hill 
leading  to  Haneyville  was  reached  they  urged 
the  horse  up  the  ascent  at  a  gallop,  while  the 
panther  slackened  his  speed  perceptibly,  and 
ceased  his  shrieks,  which  induced  the  belief  that 
the  chase  was  abandoned. 

When  they  emerged  from  the  solitude  of  the 
woods,  and  the  open  fields  and  buildings  of  the 
tiny  settlement  were  apparent,  the  boys  gave 
way  to  a  shout  of  triumph,  which  to  their  dis- 
may, hardly  had  the  echo  died  away  when  it 
was  answered  by  the  panther's  wild  scream 
which  literally  froze  their  blood,  coming  from 
the  forest  behind  them." 

They  reined  their  tired  and  steaming  horse  in 
front  of  the  primitive  tavern-stand  at  the  cross- 
roads, kept  by  "Dan"  Haney,  and  called  loudly 
for  assistance.  The  startled  landlord  poked  his 
head  out  of  an  upper  window,  pointing  his  rifle 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  301 

at  the  boys  in  his  excitement.  Talking  both  at 
once,  they  told  him  their  story,  and  he  invited 
them  to  put  up  their  horse  in  his  barn  and  re- 
main all  night.  He  dressed  himself  and  helped 
them  unharness,  all  the  while  saying,  **  Honest 
to  Goodness,  I  haven't  heard  of  anyone  seeing  a 
painter  around  here  except  this  one  since  1850, 
when  John  Hamilton  ran  into  an  old  she  one  and 
six  cubs  crossing  the  Pike  at  the  head  of  Chat- 
ham 's  Run. ' ' 

The  next  morning,  the  old  man  repeated  the 
boys'  adventure  to  a  crowd  in  the  store,  and  it 
was  decided  to  renew  the  hunt.  Late  that  after- 
noon, IVIoses  Button's  dogs  came  close  upon  the 
panther  on  the  ridge  north  of  John  Lovett's 
farm.  There  was  some  terrific  caterwauling  in- 
dulged in  by  the  brute  to  frighten  his  pursuers, 
which  the  Lovett  family  and  Button  heard  dis- 
tinctly. It  had  its  effect,  as  the  dogs  dropped 
the  trail,  and  galloped  back  towards  the  fields 
with  their  tails  between  their  legs.  It  was  with 
difficulty  that  their  owner  got  them  to  take  up 
the  scent  again,  but  when  they  did  so,  the  pan- 
ther had  escaped.  An  hour  or  so  afterwards, 
Button  came  upon  George  Shovtr,  who  lived 


302  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

on  Little  Chatham's  Run,  who  had  several  good 
dogs,  and  who  had  heard  the  panther  screaming 
near  his  premises  a  night  or  two  previous. 

The  two  men  decided  to  join  forces,  and  re- 
main in  the  woods  until  they  killed  the  mon- 
ster. But  by  the  next  night,  as  no  tracks  were 
found,  Button  decided  to  return  to  his  home 
for  some  provisions,  as  small  game  did  not  seem 
abundant  and  he  became  cold  and  hungry. 
George  Shover  had  just  come  upon  the  tracks 
the  morning  after,  when  he  met  Jake  Zinck  with 
his  dogs  out  on  the  same  errand.  Jake  was  well- 
provisioned  so  they  set  out  together,  following 
the  huge  tracks  all  day,  crossing  many  ridges. 
Towards  evening  they  came  into  the  waters  of 
Little  Miller  Run,  which  flows  through  a  rocky 
gorge  that  some  enthusiasts  have  compared  to 
Watkins'  Glen  in  New  York  State,  and  which 
empties  into  Tiadaghton  near  Waterville. 

The  tracks  were  so  fresh  that  it  looked  as  if 
they  were  close  to  their  quarry.  They  got  their 
rifles  ready,  expecting  an  almost  momentary 
meeting.  But  to  their  disappointment,  the 
tracks  began  leaving  the  hollow,  leading  up  the 
gtfee^  ^de  D'f  One  o"f  the  mb'untiatins.    It  wlaS  hard 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  303 

climbing,  especially  through  laurel  and  hemlock 
thickets,  banked  with  snow.  Near  the  brow  of 
the  steep  cliff  were  a  number  of  rocky  caves,  and 
into  one  of  these  the  tracks  led.  They  urged  the 
dogs  in,  thinking  they  might  dislodge  the  brute, 
but  the  animals  only  went  in  a  short  distance, 
and  came  out  again. 

The  hunters  got  down  on  their  hands  and 
knees,  pushing  the  dogs  ahead  of  them  as  they 
entered.  They  soon  found  out  the  cause  of  the 
trouble.  The  cave  was  a  shallow  affair,  the  main 
opening  ten  feet  from  its  mouth  being  a  deep 
hole  about  large  enough  for  a  human  being  to 
crawl  into,  which  apparently  descended  to  the 
centre  of  the  mountain.  It  would  have  been 
cruel  to  drop  the  dogs  into  the  hole,  as  they 
could  not  have  gotten  out  if  hard  pressed  by 
the  panther.  It  would  have  been  foolhardy  for 
the  hunters  to  have  descended  into  the  chasm 
themselves,  as  the  brute  might  have  sprung  upon 
them  in  the  darkness.  Yet  there  was  no  telling 
how  long  the  animal  might  remain  underground. 
Hunger  alone  would  drive  him  out. 

Zinck  suggested  blocking  up  the  mouth  of 
the  e&vi^j  and  starving  him  tb  a  ptiint  bf  fdi^ing 


304  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

him  to  make  a  dash  for  liberty.  But  George 
Shover  did  not  care  to  waste  the  time  while  the 
brute's  appetite  was  augmenting.  He  wanted 
more  immediate  results.  He  remembered  his 
father  telling  him  that  in  the  old  days  on  the 
Eocky  Branch  of  Babb's  Creek  that  the  first 
settlers  had  smothered  many  wolves  by  lighting 
smoke-fires  at  the  mouths  of  their  dens.  This 
method  had  effectually  rid  that  region  of  wolves, 
as  the  smothering  was  generally  done  at  the 
breeding  season.  After  the  animals  were  dead 
the  hunters  crawled  into  the  caves  and  drew  out 
the  carcasses  of  the  she-wolves  and  sometimes  as 
many  as  a  dozen  pups  at  a  time.  They  skinned 
the  dead  animals,  selling  the  hides  and  collecting 
bounties  on  their  scalps. 

Shover  mentioned  this  scheme  to  his  compan- 
ion who  received  it  with  approval.  There  was 
a  great  deal  of  laurel  on  the  mountain  sides, 
including  many  dead  bushes,  which  had  been 
killed  in  a  recent  forest  fire.  This  would  create 
a  terribly  foul  smelling  smoke,  well  calculated 
to  send  a  panther  to  his  reward.  There  were 
also  many  dead  tops  and  stobs,  relics  from  wind- 
fa;lls  and  fires,  strewn  alxnit,  making  a  wide  va- 


^^^-ir^i'^:'^'^ 

■^     mi      1  111  1 

^■mM^^^- 

"    .'"^- 

^tKK^i-i  ^0 ' -'^    '     /^^rlli 

-  •  ->.■:-*«* 

:r      ^^^7 

V'^r-    ^^S^^uOkJ 

BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  305 

riety  of  fuel  to  select  from.  The  fire  was  built 
well  inside  the  mouth  of  the  cave  by  piling  up 
wet  wood  with  the  naturally  smoky  laurel. 
Shover  touched  a  match  to  it.  The  smoke  which 
quickly  arose  was  nauseating  in  the  extreme,  so 
much  so,  that  it  was  difficult  to  continue  the 
work  of  blocking  up  the  cavern's  mouth.  But 
at  length  the  task  was  completed,  done  so  well 
that  hardly  any  smoke  escaped.  Then  the  hunt- 
ers built  a  cozy  lean-to  at  the  foot  of  the  moun- 
tain, spending  the  night  around  a  crackling 
camp-fire.  With  their  prize  within  reach,  the 
men  determined  not  to  leave  the  spot. 

The  news  of  the  panther  had  doubtless  spread 
by  this  time  to  Swissdale,  Hardscrabble,  Cald- 
well, Riehville,  Charlton,  and  maybe  to  Jersey 
Shore,  which  would  mean  that  scores  of  hunters 
would  go  on  the  war-path  immediately.  If  they 
found  the  tracks,  and  the  blocked-up  cave,  they 
would  dig  out  the  dead  panther,  and  refuse  to 
give  it  up  to  the  rightful  owners  upon  their  re- 
turn. Early  the  next  morning,  a  fresh  snowfall 
occurred.  The  hunters  had  a  hard  time  to  keep 
their  fires  going,  and  the  lean-to  frequently 
threatened,  tb  fall  io  through  the  weight  6t  snow 


306  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

on  it.  But  the  nimrods  were  thankful  for  the 
blizzard  as  it  would  be  the  means  of  discouraging 
the  "town"  hunters;  it  would  leave  them  to 
finish  their  task  unmolested. 

All  through  that  day  with  the  snow  coming 
down  heavily,  Shover  and  Zinck  waited  patient- 
ly, and  all  that  night.  The  next  morning  it  was 
bitterly  cold.  The  dogs  were  taken  to  the 
blocked-up  entrance  to  the  cave,  where  they 
sniffed  about  in  such  a  courageous  way  as  to 
indicate  that  the  panther  was  not  crouching  in- 
side the  barriers.  But  it  was  decided  to  wait 
until  after  dinner  before  opening  the  aperture. 
The  snow  had  commenced  to  fall  again  when 
the  two  men  started  the  re-opening  work. 

A  terrible  odor  of  stale  smoke  rushed  out  as 
they  ripped  down  the  logs ;  it  was  surely  enough 
to  stifle  man  or  beast.  But  they  worked  away 
mth  a,  will,  and  soon  had  the  opening  clear. 
Inside  were  the  still  smouldering  embers  of  the 
laurel-fire,  but  no  signs  of  the  panther.  The 
dogs  rushed  in  ahead,  and  began  sniffing  around 
the  hole  which  led  into  the  lower  chamber  of 
the  cavern.  For  a  moment  the  hunters  imagined 
that  thfe  ''ipUinteY*  was  ^lQ  a^'e".    But  as  the 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  307 

dogs  were  so  anxious  to  climb  down  into  the 
depths  this  could  not  be  the  case,  Shover  and 
Zinck  climbed  into  the  hole,  finding  that  it  de- 
scended to  a  depth  of  twenty  feet,  below  which 
was  a  long,  low  apartment.  They  lit  matches, 
and  by  their  fitful  glow  perceived  the  lifeless 
body  of  the  giant  panther. 

From  the  size  of  the  tracks  they  had  been  led 
to  believe  that  the  animal  was  extra  large,  but 
stretched  out  on  the  cavern  floor  it  seemed  to 
be  as  big  as  ''all  out  doors."  Peacefully  it  lay 
there,  like  some  huge  cat  asleep.  Evidently  it 
had  died  without  a  struggle  as  its  eyes  were 
closed,  and  the  expression  was  calm.  Shover 
stooped  down  and  lifted  up  the  big,  heavy  head 
with  his  hand.  The  lower  jaw  fell  open,  reveal- 
ing the  fact  that  there  were  very  few  teeth ;  the 
animal  was  a  very  old  one  without  a  doubt.  In 
addition,  the  men  noticed  that  the  hair  was  very 
grey;  "as  grey  as  a  bat,"  said  one  of  them;  it 
was  white  under  the  throat  and  along  the  belly ; 
it  had  none  of  the  fulvous  or  orange  color  so 
conspicuous  on  the  coats  of  panthers  taken  in 
their  prime.  The  tail  was  very  long  and  thick, 
witli  a  baiid  of  white  near  the  tuft  of  heavy, 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 


black  hair  at  the  extreme  end.  The  body  was 
still  warm,  a  slash  with  a  knife  drew  blood  from 
the  throat ;  death  had  come  not  long  before.  The 
ribs  were  noticeable,  showing  that  it  had  eaten 
very  little  lately.  It  was  evidently  waiting  to 
be  killed  or  to  die,  as  in  its  toothless  state  it 
could  not  be  very  terrifying  even  to  diseased 
fawTis  or  birds. 

Though  it  was  a  male,  the  probabilities  were 
that  most  of  its  wailing  was  caused  by  hunger 
rather  than  love.  That  also  explained  why  it 
approached  so  near  to  human  habitations. 

The  hunters  talked  and  speculated  over  their 
grand  trophy  for  over  an  hour  before  they  began 
the  severe  work  of  lifting  it  up  to  the  main 
room  in  the  cave.  It  was  about  the  toughest 
undertaking  that  they  had  attempted  in  a  long 
while.  Thin  as  it  was,  the  panther  weighed  at 
least  two  hundred  pounds.  The  head,  paws  and 
tail  hung  like  lead  weights.  Despite  the  cold 
weather,  the  hunters  were  sweating  freely  when 
they  landed  the  carcass  at  the  cavern's  mouth. 
Then  they  rolled  it  down  the  mountain  to  their 
camp-fire,  where  they  carefully  skinned  it.  They 
took  along  the  skull,  to  preijerve  it  as  a  sovvenir» 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  309 

and  did  not  cut  off  the  paws  with  the  huge, 
worn-away  claws.  They  were  surely  two  of  the 
happiest  men  in  the  entire  Black  Forest,  perhaps 
in  the  Keystone  State  that  night. 

There  was  absolutely  no  fat  on  the  carcass, 
and  the  flesh  was  practically  dreid  to  the  bones. 
How  much  more  the  brute  would  have  weighed 
when  in  good  condition  was  a  problem  to  the 
hunters.  As  it  as  he  was  little  else  but  bones 
and  muscles.  However,  they  cut  a  few  chops 
out  of  the  ribs,  determined  to  make  the  triumph 
complete  by  tasting  the  meat  of  their  victim. 
Soon,  half  a  dozen  chops  were  broiling  over  the 
cheery  fire. 

While  the  preparations  for  supper  were  in 
progress,  the  dogs  jumped  up  with  their  bristles 
on  end  and  commenced  to  bark  fiercely.  Pretty 
soon  the  gleaming  eyes  of  two  large  hounds  ap- 
peared back  of  the  camp-fire,  followed  shortly 
after  by  a  whiskered  man  in  woodsman's  garb. 
Both  hunters  recognized  the  visitor  at  Hiram 
Laffery,  a  character  who  lived  several  miles  fur- 
ther down  Little  Miller.  Though  a  drinking 
man,  and  at  times  a  cantankerous  fellow,  he  had 
worked  up  quite  a  clientele  among  Williamsport 


310  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

hunters  and  fishermen  whom  he  boarded  and 
guided  through  the  woods  on  their  outings.  He 
knew  in  reality  very  little  about  woodcraft  or 
hunting,  but  he  did  so  much  talking  that  words 
passed  for  wisdom  with  the  "  tenderf eet. " 

He  could  hardly  believe  his  senses  when  he 
saw  the  huge  hide  of  the  panther,  which  Shover 
and  Zinck  explained  to  him  had  been  killed  on 
the  mountain  directly  above  where  they  were 
camping. 

"Man  alive,"  ejaculated  Leffery,  "had  I  but 
known  that  there  was  a  'painter'  in  this  valley, 
I  could  have  made  a  fortune  inviting  some  of  the 
rich  sportsmen  from  down  country  to  come  out 
and  kill  it." 

Then  his  face  darkened  and  he  pulled  out  his 
flask  and  took  a  big  drink  to  hide  his  disap- 
pointment. Then  he  offered  the  flask  to  the 
hunters  but  they  declined  with  thanks.  The 
whiskey  made  him  more  talkative,  and  he  told 
about  a  rich  Williamsport  banker  who  doubted 
that  there  was  a  single  panther  left  in  Pennsyl- 
vania. He  had  bet  him  a  hundred  dollars  that 
there  were  still  a  few  in  the  Black  Forest  and 
in  the  Seven  Mountains,  and  would  give  half 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  811 

that  amount  to  anyone  who  would  help  his  win- 
ning that  bet. 

"But  man  alive,"  he  rambled  on,  ''here  these 
boys  kill  a  painter  and  the  biggest  one  I  ever 
saw  in  my  life  only  within  three  miles  of  my 
home.  I  had  been  hearing  dogs  barking  for  the 
past  two  days,  which  was  unusual  in  such  bad 
weather,  and  this  evening  I  could  stand  it  no 
longer.  I  had  to  come  here  and  find  out  what 
was  going  on." 

Then  he  drank  more  whiskey,  and  ate  three 
of  the  six  panther  chops.  He  wound  up  by  in- 
viting the  hunters  to  come  with  him  to  his  cabin. 

"  I  '11  treat  you  right,  just  like  I  do  the  ' '  High 
Zekes'  from  "Williamsport  and  Muncy." 

The  hunters  were  glad  to  sleep  under  cover 
for  a  change;  their  faces  burned  from  exposure 
to  the  elements,  and  they  felt  like  taking  off 
their  clothes  and  washing.  So  the  three  men 
carrying  the  hide,  the  skull  and  the  hunting 
paraphernalia  wended  their  way  down  the  dark 
ravine,  followed  by  the  dogs.  Laffery  was  liv- 
ing alone  at  the  time,  but  there  were  occasions 
when  he  employed  a  housekeeper  or  relative  to 
help  him.    There  was  a  cheery  fire  in  the  stove, 


312  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

about  which  the  men  were  glad  to  warm  them- 
selves. They  sat  about  it  until  after  midnight, 
swapping  hunting  stories  and  jokes,  during 
which  time  Laffery  consumed  much  whiskey. 
The  host  got  the  hunters  out  of  bed  early  the 
next  morning,  and  they  could  see  that  he  was 
much  the  worse  for  his  tippling.  His  eyes  were 
bloodshot,  and  he  had  little  to  say,  except  to 
swear  loudly  when  he  burnt  the  coffee  and  let  the 
pan  of  ham  fall  off  the  stove. 

The  breakfast  was  a  wretched  affair,  and  the 
two  guests  wondered  if  this  was  what  the  Wil- 
liamsport  magnates  were  forced  to  endure.  If 
so,  they  paid  dearly  for  their  sojourns  in  the 
woods.  After  the  meal,  the  nimrods  announced 
that  they  would  be  starting  for  their  homes  im- 
mediately. This  aroused  Leffery  from  his 
drunken  torpor,  and  he  asked  them  if  they  would 
sell  the  panther  hide. 

"Not  for  a  mint,"  replied  Shover  decisively. 

"I'll  give  you  fifty  dollars  cash  for  it,"  an- 
swered the  guide.  "Then  I  can  win  that  hun- 
dred dollar  bet  with  the  'High  Zeke,'  and  make 
a  lot  besides  drawing  folks  here  to  see  the  last 
painter  killed  in  Northern  Pennsylvania." 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  313 

The  hide  was  lying  on  the  floor,  as  Laffery 
had  just  finished  measuring  it.  It  stretched  out 
to  eleven  feet  from  tip  to  tip,  almost  a  record 
hide.  Joe  Snyder's  panther,  killed  on  Young 
"Woman's  Creek  in  1858,  is  said  to  have  meas- 
ured eleven  feet  six  inches,  and  a  panther  killed 
near  Newry,  Blair  County,  by  Solomon  Boos  in 
1873  measured  eleven  feet  three  inches.  A  New 
York  State  panther  killed  in  Herkimer  County 
in  the  forties  by  Joe  Wood  also  measured  eleven 
feet  three  inches. 

"You  won't  sell  me  that  hide  for  fifty  dol- 
lars!" said  Laffery  eyeing  the  hunters  critic- 
aUy. 

Both  of  them  answered  that  they  would  not. 
Shover  was  reaching  down  to  roll  it  up  when 
the  angered  guide  picked  up  an  axe  which  stood 
beside  the  wood-box,  and  with  a  vicious  swing, 
cut  off  one  of  the  paws.  ''There,  damn  you 
both,  I've  fixed  that  hide  so  you  can't  sell  it 
to  anybody." 

This  was  too  much  for  Zinck  and  striking 
out  he  hit  the  malicious  shack-dweller  a  sharp 
blow  with  the  back  of  his  hand,  drawing  blood 
from  the  whiskered  lips.     Laffery  would  have 


814  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

fallen  on  the  stove,  had  not  Shover  caught  him 
in  his  arms.  They  laid  the  fellow  cursing  and 
bellowing  on  his  couch,  from  which  he  was  too 
drunk  and  maudlin  to  move. 

Gathering  up  the  hide,  the  skull  and  their 
rifles,  the  two  hunters  departed,  slamming  the 
door  on  their  unsociable  host.  By  evening  they 
were  back  at  the  head  of  Chatham's  Run,  where 
they  tossed  a  Continental  penny,  which  Zinck 
always  carried  as  a  "pocket-piece,"  as  to  who 
should  receive  the  mutilated  hide.  Shover  won 
it,  but  it  had  been  previously  agreed  that  the 
loser  should  get  the  ears  on  which  the  twelve 
dollar  bounty  would  be  paid,  the  skull,  and  the 
severed  paw. 

Shover  had  a  great  ovation  when  he  returned 
to  his  modest  home  with  his  grand  prize.  He 
had  a  rug  made  from  the  skin,  which  was  kept 
in  his  family  for  many  years.  After  his  death, 
it  was  admired  by  a  travelling  man  from  New 
York  State  and  sold  to  him  for  fifty  dollars. 
Evidently  Hiram  Laffery  had  offered  good  value 
for  it.  Zinck  preserved  the  skull  and  the  sev- 
ered paw,  and  they  are  said  to  be  still  in  his 
home  on  the  hill  back  of  the  town  of  Oak  Grove. 


XV. 

THE  TRAMPER. 
(The  Story  of  a  Famous  Lost  Boy.) 

HE  wind  was  howling  and  the 
snow  was  beating  against  the 
doors  and  windows  of  the  old 
half-way  house  between  Ger- 
mania  settlement  and  Gale- 
ton.  It  was  such  a  terrible  night  that  the  land- 
lord, old  Daniel  Osch,  did  not  care  to  go  to  bed. 
Instead  he  sat  in  his  stocking  feet  by  the  big, 
white-washed  stove  in  the  bar-room.  The  low- 
ceilinged  room  was  lit  by  a  single  kerosene  lamp, 
which  stood  on  a  bracket  back  of  the  bar;  there 
were  four  other  lamps  in  the  room,  but  these 
were  only  lighted  on  Saturday  nights  or  when 
trade  was  especially  good.  A  pair  of  many- 
tined  stag  horns  hung  above  the  mirror,  and  on 
one  side  of  it  a  framed  lithograph  showing 
Johnstown  before  and  after  the  flood  of  1889; 
on  the  other  side  was  a  framed  engraving  of  the 
ancient  German  city  of  Bonn. 

815 


316  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

It  was  not  to  be  expected  that  there  would  be 
any  visitors  on  such  a  wild  night.  The  old  set- 
tlers and  the  trappers  were  snowed  up  in  their 
forest-hidden  cabins,  and  the  big  hemlock  camps 
which  had  lately  opened  in  the  neighboring  ra- 
vines only  kept  a  few  skidders  and  loaders  work- 
ing during  the  winter  months.  A  new  but  pass- 
ing prosperity  had  come  with  the  opening  of 
these  camps.  Hundreds  of  reckless  spenders 
were  among  the  loggers  and  bark-peelers,  who 
made  business  brisk  while  the  operations  lasted, 
then,  when  the  last  log  was  peeled,  like  the 
Arabs,  stole  silently  away,  leaving  desolation 
and  forest  fires  in  their  wake,  and  the  financial 
ruin  of  the  permanent  inhabitants  of  the  Black 
Forest. 

Old  Osch  was  figuring  this  out  in  his  slow 
but  analytic  German  brain,  and  thinking  of  his 
boyhood  days  in  the  old  country  where  a  tree 
was  planted  for  everyone  cut  down,  where  there 
were  no  forest  fires  ,and  the  lumbering  industry 
was  permanent,  building  its  saw  miUs  of  brick 
or  cement,  and  not  of  slabs  or  culls.  Lumbering 
carried  on  by  the  Potter  County  natives  on  a 
small  scale  was  calculated  to  last  indefinitely, 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  317 

even  without  replanting,  but  by  big  corporations 
it  meant  waste,  ruin,  unhappiness  for  all  except 
the  Buffalo  millionaires  who  controlled  it.  No 
wonder  that  he  glanced  with  his  small,  dark 
eyes  at  a  poster  lithograph  of  William  J,  Bryan, 
under  which  someone  had  facetiously  scribbled 
"No  Trust."  The  Nebraskan,  of  all  American 
statesmen,  had  seen  clearest  the  evils  of  mono- 
polies, but  it  would  take  several  generations  be- 
fore the  public  would  realize  that  they  had  been 
unmercifully  buncoed  into  allowing  "big  busi- 
ness," which  spelled  backwards  means  serfdom 
for  the  individual,  free  rein. 

In  the  midst  of  his  ruminations,  there  came 
a  loud  rapping  at  the  bar-room  door.  At  first  the 
old  German  thought  that  it  was  hail,  charged 
with  a  particularly  insistent  gust  of  wind,  and 
prepared  to  take  no  notice  of  it.  But  it  kept  up 
again  and  again,  louder  and  louder.  Someone 
was  outside  surely  enough.  He  glanced  at  the 
clock  which  hung  above  the  picture  of  Col. 
Bryan ;  it  was  half-past  eleven.  Nobody  in  that 
"neck  of  woods"  as  he  always  called  it,  came 
out  that  late  for  a  first  drink.  They  often 
elionigh  stayed  until  closing  time,  Jjtit  they  aJr 


318  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

ways  began  imbibing  early.  It  was  unthinkable 
that  a  traveller  could  be  on  the  road  in  such  a 
fierce  storm ;  no  liveryman  in  Galeton,  Germania 
or  Gaines  would  let  a  team  go  out. 

He  sat  and  thought  a  moment  more.  Then 
he  got  up  from  his  chair  and  walked  slowly  to 
the  door,  and  unbolted  it.  As  he  flung  the  door 
open,  the  wind  whistled  fiercely,  and  a  spray  of 
snow  and  sleet  rushed  in  which  almost  swept 
the  ponderous  Teuton  off  his  feet.  For  a  mo- 
ment he  could  see  nobody  outside.  Then  through 
the  storm  appeared  an  unkempt  figure,  covered 
with  snow,  which  caked  to  his  face,  hat  and  gar- 
ments. As  if  pushed  by  the  gale,  he  rushed  pell- 
mell  past  the  landlord  into  the  bar-room,  where 
he  settled  himself  in  the  arm-chair  by  the  stove. 

Old  man  Osch  threw  his  weight  against  the 
door,  closing  and  bolting  it.  Then  he  turned 
around,  wishing  the  stranger  good  evening.  By 
this  time,  some  of  the  sleet  had  thawed  off  the 
individual's  face  and  clothing,  and  one  could 
see  what  he  looked  like  .  He  was  a  fair-haired, 
blue-eyed  young  man  above  the  medium  height, 
with  clear-cut,  sensitive  features.  His  arched 
nose  was  pafticuiarly  finey  but  his  face  was  half- 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  319 

hidden  behind  a  ten  days '  growth  of  beard.  He 
looked  very  cold  and  pale,  so  the  proprietor 
slipped  behind  the  bar  and  poured  out  a  tumbler- 
full  of  whiskey  without  being  asked  for  it.  ' '  Take 
that, ' '  he  said.  "  I .  don 't  know  who  you  are 
yet,  but  this  will  do  you  good." 

The  stranger  drank  it  down  at  a  single  gulp, 
after  which  the  color  came  to  his  lips,  he  seemed 
more  composed. 

'  *  You  asked  me  who  I  was  a  bit  ago, ' '  he  said, 
eyeing  the  landlord  cautiously.  "I  don't  quite 
know  myself;  I  have  always  been  called  Charley 
Stamler,  but  I  have  every  reason  to  believe  that 
my  real  name  is  Charley  Carson.  I  think  that 
I  am  the  person  who  as  a  boy  was  kidnapped 
years  ago  from  my  home  in  one  of  the  suburbs 
of  Philadelphia." 

Old  man  Osch  looked  at  the  man  in  surprise. 
Was  he  talking  in  good  faith,  or  was  it  the  whis- 
key talking? 

' '  I  have  had  my  ups  and  down, ' '  the  stranger 
resumed  again.  "I  have  been  a  newsboy  and  a 
farmhand  in  Ohio,  a  deckhand  on  the  lakes,  a 
strike-breaker  at  Homestead  and  Pittsburg  in 
18!92 ;  I  marched  witii  Coxesy  's  Army  two  yeaxa 


320  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

ago ;  I  was  a  waiter  in  an  oyster  house  at  Balti- 
more, worked  on  a  coaster,  and  finally  beat  it  on 
the  trucks  from  the  Bowery  to  Rochester,  and 
have  been  tramping  it  ever  since;  folks  told  me 
there  was  lots  of  healthy  work  in  the  Pennsyl- 
vania lumber  woods.  They  tell  me  I  have  tuber- 
culosis. ' ' 

The  landlord  was  interested  in  the  recital  of 
the  young  man's  varied  career.  Such  ne'er  do 
wells  often  turned  up  in  the  Black  Forest,  but 
they  seldom  made  good  loggers  or  peelers.  But 
if  this  man  was  ill,  and  wanted  to  do  the  right 
thing  there  might  be  a  chance  for  him.  But  he 
first  explained  to  him  that  there  would  be  no 
work  on  a  large  scale  until  the  last  of  April, 
when  the  park-peeling  began.  Most  of  the  logs 
from  the  previous  summer's  cutting  had  been 
skidded  to  the  railwaj'^s  and  trails,  and  there 
was  only  a  small  crew  needed  to  load  the  cars 
and  sleds.  No  hardwood  would  be  cut  until  the 
tracts  had  been  cleaned  off  of  hemlock,  when  a 
different  set  of  jobbers,  who  worked  in  winter, 
would  take  it  up. 

"I'd  work  here  for  my  board,"  said  the  stran- 
ger, "willingly-,  until  i]t  came  time  for  me  to  get 
a  ehan'c'e  in  the  wbb'ds." 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  321 

Landlord  Osch  always  dispensed  with  his 
handy-man,  when  business  grew  slack  in  the 
fall,  but  here  was  a  chance  to  try  a  man  on  the 
lowest  wages  he  had  yet  paid.  So  he  told  the 
stranger  that  he  would  give  him  a  trial,  and  if 
he  proved  satisfactory,  he  could  remain  two 
months,  until  April,  when  the  peeling  began, 
and  when  his  regular  hostler,  who  lived  over 
on  Lyman's  Run,  would  return.  The  stranger 
was  delighted.  He  got  up,  and  shook  the  land- 
lord by  the  hand. 

"You  have  saved  my  life,"  he  said. 

"Tell  me  one  thing,"  said  the  old  man,  be- 
fore he  showed  his  new  helper  to  bed.  ' '  Do  you 
really  think  you  are  the  lost  Charley  Carson?" 

"I  do  not  think  it,  I  am  sure  of  it,,"  the  fel- 
low replied.  "I  wrote  letters,  and  offered  to 
come  in  person  and  prove  my  case,  but  I  could 
get  no  replies.  I  put  my  evidence  in  the  hands 
of  lawyers,  but  I  could  not  fight  the  case  right 
with  no  money.  It  is  a  long  story;  some  time 
I'll  tell  you  all  about  it." 

The  stranger  was  not  a  failure  in  his  new 
position.  He  worked  hard,  even  in  the  kitchen 
and  laundry  which  pl^asdd  the  landlord 's  thrifty 


322  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

wife.  When  the  bark-peeling  season  opened,  the 
regular  helper,  though  he  was  an  old  soldier,  be- 
came imbued  with  the  idea  of  making  better  pay 
driving  a  team  in  the  woods,  and  sent  word  he 
was  not  coming  back.  The  stranger  asked  to 
remain,  and  got  the  place  on  the  same  terms  as 
his  predecessor.  During  the  summer  months 
business  was  lively,  for  in  addition  to  the  hordes 
of  bark-peelers  and  jobbers,  the  hotel  was  daily 
thronged  with  peddlers,  agents,  travelling  pho- 
tographers, patent  medicine  men,  and  all  kinds 
of  fakers  in  general — the  lumbermen's  camp- 
followers,  as  well  as  many  trout  fishermen. 

It  was  during  the  rush  season  that  an  Indian 
girl  named  Armanie  Doxtater,  was  engaged  to 
assist  with  the  house-work.  She  was  a  pretty 
girl  of  nineteen,  slender,  with  large,  dark  blue 
eyes,  which  with  her  rather  pale  complexion  de- 
noted the  usual  admixture  of  white  blood.  No 
sooner  did  she  arrive  than  Charley  Stamler,  the 
helper,  began  to  spruce  up  his  appearance.  He 
went  to  Galeton  one  evening,  where  he  had  his 
blonde  beard  trimmed  to  a  fashionable  point, 
and  bought  a  straw  hat,  new  shoes,  and  a  new 
suit  6i  felbfehfefe.    He  was  a  g^tlefmanly,  almt)St 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  323 

good-looking  chap  when  well-dressed,  and  he 
began  to  pay  marked  attentions  to  the  Indian 
girl,  who  seemed  to  like  him  in  return. 

This  little  undercurrent  of  romance  helped  to 
pass  away  the  summer  pleasantly.  Old  Oseh 
was  waiting  all  the  time  for  his  protege  to  tell 
him  the  reasons  why  he  felt  sure  that  he  was  the 
lost  Charley  Carson,  but  never  again  did  he  open 
his  mouth  on  the  subject.  Evidently  he  had 
been  nervously  tired  the  night  of  his  strange 
arrival  in  the  storm,  and  talked  more  freely 
as  the  result,  and  besides  his  loquacity  had  been 
helped  along  by  that  tumbler-full  of  whiskey. 
Daniel  Osch  was  of  an  inquisitive  nature,  and 
could  not  rest  easily  until  he  would  hear  more 
of  the  Charley  Carson  story.  He  reminded  the 
helper  every  few  days  of  his  promise  to  finish 
the  narrative,  but  the  only  answer  he  could  get 
from  him  was  a  polite  rejoinder  that  he  would 
tell  it  later  on. 

The  old  man  hit  upon  the  plan  of  imparting 
what  he  knew  to  Armanie,  asking  her  to  wheedle 
it  out  of  the  stranger.  She  was  a  modest  girl, 
and  while  the  queer  story  interested  her,  she 
never  got  up  enough  courage  to  put  the  question 


324  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

to  him.  Old  Mother  Osch  brought  it  up  several 
times,  even  at  the  dinner  table,  but  could  gain 
no  satisfaction.  But  as  long  as  it  remained  un- 
told, the  old  landlord  determined  to  hold  on  to 
the  stranger,  as  it  made  him  feel  that  he  was 
harboring  someone  of  consequence. 

In  October,  when  bark-peeling  was  about  over 
for  the  season,  Armanie  returned  to  her  parents' 
home,  which  was  also  on  Lyman's  Run.  The 
stranger  felt  her  loss  keenly;  it  was  as  if  the 
spirit  had  left  the  place.  Twice  a  week  he  made 
the  journey  to  see  her.  The  tram-road  for  logs 
took  him  most  of  the  way,  but  he  had  to  make 
the  long  walk  back  at  midnight.  Though  the 
distance  was  long,  it  was  not  unpleasant  through 
the  avenues  of  sweet-scented,  newly  peeled  logs. 
But  he  always  seemed  much  happier  the  days 
after  he  had  been  to  see  her. 

Old  Mother  Osch  whispered  to  her  husband 
and  intimates  ' '  that  it  was  going  to  be  a  match. ' ' 
As  she  had  no  children  of  her  own,  she  was  much 
interested  in  the  strange  romance.  Of  course, 
she  said  she  knew  nothing  of  the  hired-man,  he 
might  he  a  jail-bird  of  some  kind  from  the  cities. 
She  was  sure  that  thfere  was  some  mystclpy  abc*ut 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  326 

him.  If  he  was  sure  of  being  the  lost  Charley 
Carson,  why  did  he  not  continue  hiring  lawyers 
and  enforce  his  claim.  He  might  very  easily  be 
the  famous  kidnapped  boy,  as  he  had  every  indi- 
cation of  gentle  birth.  But  all  this  gossip  re- 
sulted in  nothing.  When  the  rabbit,  squirrel, 
and  bird  shooting  season  set  in,  business  at  the 
half-way  house  began  to  grow  brisk  again.  The 
old  woman  regretted  that  she  had  let  Armanie 
go,  but  the  hired-man  made  himself  so  useful 
that  she  soon  ceased  complaining  of  overwork. 

Parties  of  half  a  dozen  sportsmen,,  with  their 
dogs  came  to  the  hotel  nightly;  they  were  con- 
vivial fellows,  those  hunters,  drinking  much  of 
the  excellent  beer  brewed  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  tipping  liberally  for  every  favor  received. 
Some  of  them  indulged  in  more  drinking  than 
hunting,  and  it  was  a  wonder  that  when  they 
did  shoot  that  they  did  not  kill  one  another. 
The  bibulous  gunners  could  be  appeased  if  game 
was  served  to  them  for  supper  after  their  fruit- 
less days  in  the  woods.  As  it  was  before  the 
passage  of  any  of  the  wise  laws  forbidding  the 
sale  of  game,  Landlord  Osch  would  engage  half 


326  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

a  dozen  local  pot-hunters  to  keep  the  table  sup- 
plied. 

One  night  towards  the  middle  of  October,  a 
dozen  rabbit  hunters  were  spending  the  night 
at  the  half-way  house.  They  lived  near  the  New 
York  State  line,  and  came  into  the  Black  For- 
est to  hunt  every  autumn.  Although  they  had 
had  a  very  successful  day,  they  preferred  to  eat 
the  rabbits  which  the  landlord  served,  as  they 
wanted  to  take  their  own  "kills"  home  as  tro- 
phies. As  an  especialy  delicacy,  a  Northern 
hare,  a  very  rare  animal,  was  the  piece  de  resist- 
ance of  the  feast.  The  dining  room  was  on  the 
second  floor  of  the  hotel;  in  warm  weather  the 
meals  were  served  on  a  porch,  which  opened  out 
from  it,  and  gave  an  excellent  view  of  the  for- 
ests and  mountains,  and  of  the  purling,  babbling 
brook  below.  It  was  a  cold  night,  and  the  small 
stove  barely  heated  the  large,  high-ceilinged 
apartment.  It  was  illuminated  by  a  couple  of 
small  lamps  on  the  walls,  and  one  with  a  green 
glass  shade,  which  stood  on  the  supper  table. 

A  stuffed  grey  fox  or  Colishay  ornamented  the 
mantel-shelf.  The  hunters  were  ravenously 
hungry  after  their  strenuous  day  in  the  brisk 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  827 

mountain  air,  and  before  the  meal  had  been  an- 
nounced, drank  a  round  of  whiskey.  During 
the  supper,  they  drank  much  beer,  which  they 
poured  out  in  tumblers  from  two  large  cut-glass 
pitchers.  A  cat,  yellow  in  color  like  a  panther, 
and  with  one  black  spot  over  its  eye,  was  play- 
ing about  the  room  with  a  spool.  It  reminded 
one  of  the  hunters,  so  he  said,  of  a  black-eyed 
panther  that  was  a  terror  to  the  first  settlers  on 
Eleven  Mile  Run,  nearly  a  hundred  years  be- 
fore. His  grandfather  had  shot  it,  he  added  with 
great  gusto,  making  a  lap-robe  out  of  the  hide. 

After  the  feast,  aU  the  gunners  began  to  feel 
sleepy,  slouching  down  in  their  chairs,  and  lay- 
ing aside  their  cigars.  Suddenly  the  cat  dropped 
the  spool,  and  with  a  yell,  bristled  up,  and  ran 
under  the  table.  At  the  same  time,  the  most 
wide-awake  member  of  the  party  jumped  up 
from  his  seat,  shouting,  '  *  See  that  pale  man  over 
there,  who  is  he,  where  did  he  come  from?" 

And  as  he  spoke,  he  pointed  over  to  the  door 
which  in  the  summer  time  led  to  the  porch 
where  meals  were  served,  but  which  now  was 
kept  locked.  All  the  men  looked  around.  The 
majority  of  them  saw  a  white  figure,  closely  re- 


328  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

sembling  the  hired  man,  standing  against  the 
closed  door.  As  they  looked  at  him,  he  faded 
away ;  he  seemed  to  go  through  the  key-hole.  As 
he  vanished.  Landlord  Osch  and  his  wife,  hav- 
ing heard  the  commotion,  rushed  into  the  room, 
finding  their  guests  in  attitudes  of  greatest  agi- 
tation. They  told  the  old  couple  as  best  they 
could  what  had  happened. 

Osch  shook  his  head.  ' '  It  could  not  have  been 
Charley  Stamler;  he  left  here  before  dark  to 
visit  his  girl  on  Lyman's  Run,  and  I  do  not  be- 
lieve in  ghosts." 

"Neither  do  we,"  chorused  the  hunters,  every 
man  wanting  to  go  on  record  for  his  material- 
ism. But  they  were  frightened  half  to  death 
nevertheless.  As  quickly  as  they  could,  they 
hurried  down  the  narrow  stairs  to  the  bar,  to 
brace  themselves  for  the  night  with  whiskey 
straight. 

When  Mother  Osch  was  clearing  off  the  table, 
her  foot  touched  the  cat,  still  crouching  beneath 
it.  She  dragged  the  frightened  animal  out,  but 
to  use  her  own  words,  it  was  ' '  scared  stiff. ' '  The 
hunters  were  too  nervous  to  want  to  go  to  bed 
early,  and  kept  fortifying    their    nerves    with 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  329 

more  liquor.  They  kept  the  landlord  back  of  the 
bar  until  a  few  minutes  after  the  official  hour  for 
closing.  For  once  in  their  lives,  they  were 
thankful  that  they  had  to  sleep  two  in  a  bed. 
But  the  night  passed  uneventfully,  not  one  of 
them  saw  a  ghost  or  even  heard  a  rustle. 

When  at  daybreak,  old  man  Osch  came  down- 
stairs, he  looked  about  for  his  hired-man,  whom 
he  usually  found  building  the  fires.  He  waited 
until  his  wife  came  on  the  scene,  and  then  start- 
ed on  a  search.  The  man's  bed  had  not  been 
occupied ;  if  he  had  come  back,  he  had  not  gone 
to  his  room.  He  went  out  to  the  barn,  the 
chicken-house,  the  hog-pen,  and  to  the  cellar, 
but  there  were  no  signs  of  his  helper.  He 
thought  of  the  little  restaurant  building  over  by 
the  creek,  where  above  the  door  was  the  modest 
sign,  "Soft  drinks,  ice  cream,  light  lunch  for 
sale  here."  It  was  only  open  for  business  dur- 
ing the  summer  months.  It  would  be  extremely 
unlikely  that  the  man  went  into  such  a  flimsy 
structure  on  such  a  cold  night,  but  he  decided 
to  go  there  anyhow. 

The  building  had  been  closed  for  nearly  a 
month,  the  wooden  shutters  were  upon  the  win- 


330  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

dows.  "When  he  reached  the  door,  he  found  it 
locked,  with  the  key  sticking  in  the  key-hole. 
Upon  opening  the  door,  he  was  greeted  by  a  foul, 
musty  odor,  like  all  unventilated  apartments 
give  forth. 

As  his  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  semi- 
darkness,  he  could  make  out  a  pair  of  feet  raised 
aloft  behind  the  counter.  Going  closer,  he  found 
the  body  of  a  man,  with  his  head  wedged  under 
the  counter ;  literally  standing  on  his  head.  Not 
wishing  to  disturb  the  body  when  alone,  he  hur- 
ried back  to  the  hotel,  calling  for  his  guests, 
most  of  whom  were  lounging  about  the  cold 
stove  in  the  bar-room  waiting  for  breakfast  to 
be  announced.  Hatless,  they  walked  with  him 
across  the  poplar  dotted  yard,  to  the  little  restau- 
rant beside  the  brook.  They  followed  into  the 
gloomy  store-room,  where  they  saw  the  awful 
spectacle  behind  the  counter. 

The  bravest  one  of  them,  a  man  named  Albert 
Adams,  brushed  by  the  others,  and  catching  the 
corpse  by  its  feet,  dragged  it  out  on  the  centre 
of  the  floor.  When  he  turned  it  so  that  the  face 
would  be  upward,  they  all  recognized  it  as  the 
hired  man,  Charley  Stamler,  and  as  the  appari- 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  331 

tion  that  had  appeared  to  them  in  the  dining- 
room.  Several  of  the  men  gave  way  to  a  shout 
of  terror.    It  was  a  trying  situation. 

Then  the  question  arose  as  to  how  the  dead 
man  got  into  such  a  peculiar  position  behind  the 
counter.  Adams  said  that  the  head  was  tightly 
cramped  between  two  boxes  of  empty  soda-water 
bottles;  it  was  with  difficulty  that  he  extracted 
it.  During  the  discussion,  Mother  Osch  appeared 
on  the  scene;  she  wrung  her  hands  with  grief 
when  she  learned  of  the  tragic  fate  of  her  favor- 
ite helper,  especially  since  he  had  died  with  his 
secret  untold. 

It  was  decided  not  to  examine  the  body  fur- 
ther until  the  coroner  could  be  summoned.  A 
neighbor  was  dispatched  for  the  official  with  a 
speedy  horse  and  buggy,  returning  with  him  in 
the  late  afternoon.  The  hunters  who  had  lingered 
around  the  premises  all  day  were  used  as  jurors 
and  witnesses.  The  coroner  happened  to  be  a 
practicing  physician  so  he  made  a  critical  exami- 
nation of  the  dead  man. 

There  were  no  signs  of  foul  play  or  self-de- 
struction. He  had  apparently  met  his  death 
from  apoplexy  or  heart  failure  as  the  result  of 


332  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

losing  his  balance  while  leaning  over  the  coun- 
ter. From  the  appearance  of  the  body,  death 
had  occurred  about  nine  or  ten  o'clock  the  night 
previous.  That  was  the  very  time  that  the 
hunters  had  seen  the  spectre  in  the  dining  room. 
Several  of  them  turned  pale  when  they  heard 
this  pronouncement. 

"While  they  were  conferring  over  the  peculiar 
affair,  Armanie  Doxtater  appeared  on  the  pre- 
mises wild-eyed  and  dishevelled.  She  had  failed 
to  receive  her  expected  visit  from  her  lover;  all 
night  long  she  had  dreamed  horribly  about  him. 
White  and  ghost-like,  he  had  appeared  before 
her  bedside  six  times.  She  was  sure  that  he 
had  met  with  foul  play.  "When  she  saw  the 
body  lying  on  the  floor  of  the  store-house,  she 
threw  herself  upon  it,  and  had  to  be  dragged 
away.  Her  grief,  primitive  and  genuine, 
brought  tears  to  some  of  the  unsentimental  hunt- 
ers grouped  about  the  room. 

The  coroner  tried  to  get  her  to  compose  her- 
self, so  that  she  might  tell  what  she  knew  con- 
cerning the  strange  man.  She  said  that  he  had 
been  very  reticent  concerning  himself,  except  to 
say  that  Stamler  was  not  his  real  name,  that  his 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  333 

name  was  Charley  Carson.  When  she  had  asked 
him  if  he  was  the  hero  of  the  famous  kidnapping 
of  twenty  odd  years  before,  he  had  been  silent 
a  while,  then  whispered  that  he  felt  that  he  was, 
but  refused  to  say  more.  Then  the  girl  started 
to  tell  about  the  deceased's  many  good  qualities, 
finally  breaking  into  hysterical  weeping. 

The  coroner  brought  up  the  question  which 
Landlord  Osch  had  mentioned  earlier  in  the  in- 
quest, about  finding  the  store-house  door  locked 
with  the  key  on  the  outside.  The  old  German 
maintained  that  he  had  made  no  mistake  about 
it.  But  it  was  hard  to  believe  with  all  the  indi- 
cations pointing  to  death  from  natural  causes. 

The  only  solution  of  it  was  that  the  man  had 
died  outside,  and  had  been  put  in  the  store- 
house by  some  one  who  had  afterwards  locked 
the  door.  Finally  the  coroner  asked  the  land- 
lord what  person  usually  kept  the  store-house 
key. 

** Charley  had  it,"  he  said.  "He  put  up  the 
shutters  and  locked  the  door  at  the  end  of  the 
season,  and  I  forgot  to  ask  him  for  it." 

The  verdict  arrived  at  was  that  the  man  had 
come  to  his  death  from  heart  failure^  induced 
W  an  ajfc^Iiekrtil:^  flt 


334 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 


' '  That 's  all  right  enough, ' '  said  Albert  Adams 
that  evening,  as  he  leaned  against  one  of  the 
pillars  of  the  hotel  porch,  pulling  his  long, 
blonde  mustache,  "but  it  doesn't  explain  where 
he  met  his  death  or  how  he  got  in  that  store- 
house in  such  a  cramped  position  with  the  door 
locked  on  the  outside." 


XVI. 

LITTLE  RED  RIDING  HOOD. 
(Story  of  the  Packet-Boat  Wolf.) 

LD  Mike  Curts,  who  spent  most 
of  his  life  in  the  Black  Forest, 
hunting  and  trapping  wolves, 
used  to  tell  the  story  of  how 
he  killed  the  famous  Black 
Wolf,  that  was  wont  to  follow  the  packet-boats 
every  night,  which  plied  between  Williamsport 
and  Lock  Haven.  From  him,  as  well  as  many 
others,  including  the  chief  actress  herself,  has 
come  the  remarkable  tale  of  the  Little  Red  Rid- 
ing Hood  of  the  West  Branch. 

It  was  during  the  early  forties  that  the  ' '  pack- 
et-boat wolf"  was  first  noticed.  In  those  days, 
wolves  were  becoming  scarce  in  the  West  Branch 
Valley,  the  bounty-hunters  and  the  poisoners 
having  pretty  well  succeeded  in  driving  them  to 
the  fastnesses  of  the  Black  Forest  to  the  North 
and  the  Seven  Mountains  to  the  South.  Ten 
years  previously,  they  were  very  numerous,  com- 

835 


836  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

ing  down  into  the  fields  to  play  or  to  commit 
small  depredations. 

The  venerable  Jacob  Quiggle,  who  died  on  the 
eve  of  his  ninetieth  birthday  in  1911,  often  told 
how  his  father  would  go  at  sunset  to  the  back 
door  of  his  home  near  Pine  Station,  Clinton 
County  and  imitate  the  barking  of  a  wolf.  It 
would  be  answered  from  the  summit  of  the 
Round  Top,  first  by  one  wolf,  then  by  two,  by 
four,  and  so  on  until  the  entire  pack  were  yelp- 
ing in  chorus.  If  he  continued  his  imitations 
long  enough  the  animals  would  descend  from  the 
mountain  and  come  to  the  edge  of  his  fields,  the 
bolder  ones  approaching  almost  to  the  farm- 
buildings. 

One  time  the  youthful  Jacob  informed  his  pa- 
rents that  his  little  brother,  his  sister,  and  him- 
self had  been  followed  to  school  and  back  every 
day  by  a  big,  brown  dog.  The  shrewd  pioneer 
became  suspicious  of  the  "dog"  and  accom- 
panied the  children  next  morning,  armed  with 
his  trusty  rifle.  In  a  wood,  not  far  from  his 
home  he  found  a  shaggy,  brown  wolf  waiting  on 
the  path.  The  animal  was  lying  with  his  paws 
stretched  out,  his  tongue  lolling,  and  panting, 


BOLD  HUNTERS.    (NORWICH.  PA.) 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  337 

just  like  an  ordinary  dog.  Despite  the  tearful 
protests  of  the  children,  he  shot  the  wolf  dead. 

During  the  forties,  what  wolves  remained  in 
the  West  Branch  were  scattering  individuals, 
the  big  packs  having  been  killed  off  or  sought 
safer  localities.  It  began  to  be  noticed  that  a 
M'olf  was  following  the  night  packet-boat ;  the 
animal  using  the  old  Indian  trail  which  ran 
along  the  tops  of  the  Bald  Eagle  Mountains.  It 
took  up  the  trail  soon  after  Williamsport  was 
left,  and  did  not  give  it  up  until  the  mountain 
at  the  right  side  of  Castanea  Gap,  near  Lock 
Haven,  was  reached.  From  its  remote  situation 
it  could  make  out  the  boat  in  the  valley  below 
by  its  gleaming  lights.  Every  time  a  Gap  was 
neared,  the  wolf  would  give  out  some  unearthly 
howls,  which  often  would  seemingly  be  answered 
by  every  dog  in  the  deep  valley.  During  the 
summer  months,  when  the  days  were  long,  the 
wolf  was  seldom  heard  from  although  it  was  pre- 
sumed he  followed  the  boats  nightly,  as  on 
stormy  nights  he  barked  as  usual. 

Many  causes  were  assigned  for  his  bold  and 
unusual  conduct.  The  chief  one  was  that  he 
was  charmed  by  the  lights.     OtTiers  were  that 


338  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

hunger  drove  him  on,  or  that  the  moving  boat 
looked  like  some  edible  animal.  Some  declared 
that  it  was  no  wolf  at  all  but  a  spook;  even 
though  it  did  make  huge  tracks  in  the  snow.  In 
the  beginning  the  farmers  and  hunters  of  the 
valley  were  too  much  occupied  otherwise  to  try 
and  kill  this  lone  wolf.  It  apparently  did  no 
harm;  there  were  troublesome  beasts  nearer 
home,  which  must  first  be  exterminated.  As 
time  went  on,  the  "packet-boat  wolf"  became  so 
well-known  that  several  hunters  coveted  the  dis- 
tinction of  killing  it. 

These  brave  nimrods  posted  themselves  along 
the  path  on  the  mountain  summits  waiting  for 
the  wolf  to  trot  past  and  be  shot.  They  were 
always  disappointed  to  see  the  packet-boat  go 
by  in  the  valley  beneath,  and  then,  a  few  minutes 
later,  to  hear  the  wolf  barking  on  the  crest  of 
the  next  mountain  beyond.  These  hunters  wait- 
ed night  after  night,  with  no  better  results.  It 
seemed  like  wasting  time,  so  they  gradually 
dropped  the  quest.  However,  a  number  of 
traps  were  placed  along  the  trail,  which  the  sa- 
gacious wolf  always  managed  to  dodge.  Poison- 
ing was  tried  with  no  success.    If  the  wolf  was 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  339 

as  hungry  as  so  many  persons  claimed,  it  was 
strange  he  would  not  touch  choice  bits  of  veal 
and  mutton  deeply  impregnated  with  strychnine. 
Other  animals  and  birds  took  the  bait  readily 
enough;  dead  foxes,  skunks,  hawks,  owls  and 
buzzards  were  found  near  the  poisoned  meat. 

On  one  occasion  when  a  large  band  of  young 
men  were  out  on  the  mountain  west  of  Aughan- 
baugh's  Gap,  driving  deer  with  their  dogs,  they 
noticed  the  packet-boat  coming  up  the  valley  in 
the  distance.  They  quickly  formed  a  human 
cordon  across  the  mountain's  top  and  sides.  The 
wolf  would  have  to  turn  back  or  go  through 
them,  they  thought.  Much  to  their  anger,  they 
heard  the  familiar  barking  after  the  boat  had 
passed,  coming  from  the  extreme  end  of  the 
mountain,  to  the  west,  where  it  dips  into 
Kearns's  Gap. 

The  wolf  seemed  to  bear  a  charmed  life,  and 
when  hunters  got  together  all  agreed  that  no 
one  had  ever  seen  the  animal.  Perhaps  it  was 
a  different  wolf  every  night,  one  very  young 
hunter  ventured.  If  it  was,  then  the  mountains 
were  teeming  with  them,  which  was  surely  not 


340  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

the  case  at  that  time,  to  judge  by  the  number 
actually  killed  each  year. 

There  were  many  who  liked  to  hear  the  pack- 
et-wolf at  night,  among  them  the  great  jurist, 
Ellis  Lewis,  who  often  travelled  to  Lock  Haven, 
then  a  growing  lumbering  centre  as  well  as  the 
seat  of  justice  of  the  new  county  of  Clinton. 
But  the  wolf  had  many  more  foes  than  friends, 
consequently  it  was  through  its  own  alertness, 
that  it  managed  to  survive. 

In  September,  1847,  occurred  a  memorable 
flood  in  the  West  Branch.  The  canal  was  torn 
out  in  many  places,  especially  at  the  canal- 
bridges  over  Tiadaghton  and  Chatham's  Run. 
Traffic  was  temporarily  suspended  while  bands 
of  sturdy  Irishmen  toiled  to  restore  it  to  the 
normal  condition.  Some  alarmists  said  that  it 
would  take  until  winter  before  the  packet-boats 
would  be  running  again,  so  formidable  seemed 
the  piles  of  logs  and  drift  which  choked  the 
canal-bed,  to  say  nothing  of  the  washouts  at  the 
bridges  and  locks. 

The  impatient  public  which  must  travel  soon 
caused  the  old  stages  to  be  brought  in  requisition 
during  the  intferVal.     Thfes'e  aged  vtehiblies  oticie 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  841 

SO  conspicuous  along  the  "river  road"  were 
dragged  out,  cob-webbed  and  creaking,  from 
their  shadowy  retirement  in  a  shed  back  of  the 
Union  House  in  Williamsport,  and  after  a  little 
greasing  and  varnishing,  travelled  as  well  as 
ever,  though  they  had  been  out  of  commission 
for  over  ten  years.  Such  is  the  ultimate  triumph 
of  good  material!  These  stages  ran  by  day,  as 
the  roads  were  too  poor  to  risk  the  danger  of  a 
breakdown  on  some  lonely  stretch  after  dark. 

During  the  period  when  the  packet-boats  were 
not  running,  nothing  was  heard  of  the  Black 
"Wolf  for  some  time.  It  was  predicted  that  the 
flood  would  be  his  undoing,  that  he  would  come 
down  into  the  valley  to  investigate,  and  meet  his 
death.  Some  children  living  near  Adam  Car- 
son's, afterwards  M'am  Smith's  old  half-way 
house,  claimed  to  have  seen  a  huge,  black  animal 
swimming  the  river  late  one  afternoon.  It  came 
ashore  not  far  from  where  are  now  the  ruins 
of  the  old  Chatham's  Run  High  School  build- 
ing, shook  itself,  and  scampered  up  the  bank  and 
into  the  woods  at  the  foot  of  Hulings'  hill 
to  the  north  of  the  highway.  Settlers  in  the 
Black  Forest,  especially  several  families  living 


342  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

at  the  sources  of  Upper  and  Lower  Pine  Bot- 
tom Runs,  reported  seeing  a  black  wolf  of  enor- 
mous size  lurking  about  their  premises. 

Soon  the  story  went  the  rounds  that  the 
packet-boat  wolf  had  gone  to  the  Black  Forest; 
in  future,  he  might  trot  along  the  tops  of  the 
Alleghenies  instead  of  the  Bald  Eagles.  Work  on 
the  canal  progressed  much  fasterthan  the  "calam- 
ity-howlers" predicted,  and  in  the  "Squaw 
Winter"  appeared  to  be  ready  for  traffic  again. 
This  was  pleasing  to  shippers,  who  had  a  great 
accumulation  of  lumber  and  grain  to  send  east- 
ward. It  also  pleased  the  travelling  public, 
who  preferred  the  calm  and  comfort  of  the  boats 
to  the  rattle  and  dust  or  mud  of  stage-riding. 
And  there  were  almost  as  many  who  wished  for 
the  return  of  the  packet-boat  wolf  as  they  did 
for  the  packet-boats. 

Over  in  Nippenose  Valley,  not  far  from  the 
gates  of  the  majestic  Sanderson  estate  of  "Loch- 
abar,"  lived  an  estimable  family  named  Steyne. 
They  came  originally  from  Berks  County,  but 
had  been  established  in  their  abode  on  Antes 
Creek  for  two  generations.  Jacob  Steyne,  the 
husband  and  father,   was  a  successful  farmer 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  843 

and  stockman.  He  turned  his  attention  mostly 
to  sheep  raising,  producing  larger  animals  than 
most  of  his  fellow  breeders.  Pasture  was  scarce 
during  the  summer  months  especially  on  a  small 
farm  where  there  was  so  much  stock,  as  a  result 
of  which  the  Steyne  cattle,  numbering  nearly  a 
score,  were  driven  every  morning  out  on  the 
mountain  road  which  leads  to  Bastress,  where 
they  would  find  plenty  to  feed  upon  on  the  shady 
highlands. 

Caroline  Steyne,  then  a  little  girl  of  about 
nine  years  of  age,  usually  drove  the  animals  out 
on  the  mountain,  as  it  was  only  a  short  distance 
from  the  farm.  She  was  of  good-size,  and 
sturdy,  and  never  knew  such  a  thing  as  fear. 
Often  when  she  went  to  fetch  the  cattle  home- 
ward in  the  cool  of  the  evenings,  she  was  ac- 
companied by  a  younger  brother  and  sister.  The 
children  all  loved  these  excursions  into  the  land 
of  laurel  and  rhododendron,  where  there  were 
tall  pines,  splashing  cascades,  and  dark,  mossy 
paths.  The  cattle  were  liberally  supplied  with 
bells,  so  that  they  could  be  heard  a  long  distance. 
But  as  evening  approached,  they  generally 
wended  their  way  off  the  highest  eminences,  be- 


344  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

ing  oftenest  found  waiting  patiently  along  the 
Bastress  Road. 

Out  on  the  summits  a  few  brown  bears  and 
wild-cats  still  lingered,  but  these  creatures  hard- 
ly ever  molested  live-stock,  and  never  troubled 
human-beings.  A  little  girl  named  Phoebe  Arm- 
priester,  who  lived  on  the  present  site  of  Nip- 
peno  Park,  once  wandered  into  the  forest  where 
she  met  with  a  huge,  brown  bear,  which  took 
good  care  of  her  until  she  was  rescued  by  her 
almost-frantic  father  a  few  days  later. 

Little  Caroline  loved  the  woods  and  all  wild 
nature.  Often  she  saw  deer  on  her  rambles; 
they  appeared  to  be  quite  friendly  with  the 
cattle.  Foxes  many  times  crossed  the  road  in 
front  of  her ;  once  she  saw  one  destroy  a  yellow- 
jackets '  nest  by  flopping  its  tail  on  the  aperture, 
of  the  hive  attracting  the  insects,  and  then 
knocking  them  to  the  ground  and  devouring 
them.  Rabbits,  squirrels,  porcupines  and  wood- 
chucks  scarcely  moved  at  her  approach.  Ravens 
were  plentiful,  croaking  among  the  mature  yel- 
low pines  on  the  high  table-lands.  There  were 
still  a  few  strutting  heath-cocks,  and  numerous 
wild  turkeys,  ruffed  grouse,  and  bob  whites.  The 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  345 

great  blue  herons  and  brown  bitterns  waded  in 
the  fern-banked  pools.  Cardinal  ]3irds,  wood 
thrushes  and  rare  warblers  sang  in  the  deep 
woods.  The  shrill- voiced  Blue  Jays,  as  if  fearful 
of  being  seen,  darted  from  tree  to  tree  through 
the  dense  foliage.  She  loved  especially  the  sad 
notes  of  the  upland  plover.  Often  the  wild  pig- 
eons' nests  could  be  seen  among  the  wide-spread- 
ing beeches.  Wild  flowers  of  all  kinds  abounded, 
and  huckleberries,  dishberries  and  wild  goose- 
berries grew  in  profusion  in  patches  where  the 
timber  had  been  cut  away.  It  was  an  inspiring 
influence  to  a  sensible,  impressionable  child  like 
Caroline,  who  appreciated  her  daily  visits  to 
the  wilds  as  the  modern  child  does  an  art  gal- 
lery or  theatrical  performance. 

One  evening,  the  last  part  of  October,  when 
she  started  out,  she  could  feel  that  the  air  was 
becoming  much  cooler.  She  loved  this  time  of  the 
year,  with  its  intimation  of  a  change  of  seasons. 
She  noticed  places  on  the  mountain  sides  where 
the  sun  had  shone  at  this  hour  earlier  in  the  sum- 
mer but  were  now  obscured  in  shadow.  As  she 
walked  along  the  steep  road,  she  broke  off  stalks 
of  the  withered  Joe  Pye  weed,  or  stooped  to 


846  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

pluck  the  dainty  Blue-wood  asters.  The  decidu- 
ous trees  were  tinted  with  the  colors  of  the  rain- 
bow. 

High  up  on  the  mountain  road  she  could  hear 
the  melodious  cow-bells,  the  cattle  were  far  from 
home  this  evening.  They  had  to  go  further 
out  on  the  summits  to  get  pasture  as  the  season 
progressed.  Several  times  the  energetic  little 
girl  called  to  her  brother  and  sister  to  walk  fast- 
er, she  hated  to  leave  them  out  of  her  sight  in 
the  advancing  gloom.  There  was  very  little  sun 
left  except  on  the  mountain  tops;  the  gorge  up 
which  the  road  wound  was  now  the  color-tone  of 
dusk. 

As  they  climbed  higher  and  higher,  they 
neared  a  clearing  where  once  an  early  settler's 
home  had  stood.  Often  the  cattle  waited  for 
their  drivers  in  that  spot,  as  there  was  much 
clover  among  the  grass,  and  cool  shade  from 
the  ancient  "wild"  apple  and  plum  trees,  plant- 
ed there  in  Indian  days,  in  the  stillness  of  the 
autumn  evening,  it  was  a  quaint  spot,  pastured 
smooth,  with  dry  mullein  and  milkweed;  sumac 
with  reddened  leaves  was  growing  near  to  where 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  347 

the  stones  of  the  old  foundations  raised  their 
heads. 

As  Caroline  and  her  little  brother  and  sister 
passed  along  the  road,  they  noticed  a  large,  black 
object,  seated  on  its  haunches,  under  an  apple 
tree.  It  could  not  be  a  calf  from  its  attitude, 
yet  it  was  too  big  to  be  a  dog.  The  trio  eyed 
it  critically,  and  then  Caroline  told  the  others 
to  remain  where  they  were  until  she  went  closer 
and  saw  for  herself. 

Bravely  she  walked  across  the  field,  towards 
where  the  monster  sat  watching  her.  When  she 
got  close,  she  saw  that  she  was  literally  walking 
into  the  jaws  of  a  giant  wolf.  The  creature  was 
coal-black,  with  great  brown  bars  running 
around  its  body ;  evidently  it  had  not  yet  gotten 
its  winter  coat.  Its  head  was  large  and  broad, 
with  narrow,  pointed  ears.  The  eyes  were  round 
and  somewhat  bloodshot,  the  mouth  cut  far  back, 
with  cruel,  white  teeth  protruding.  The  chest  was 
broad,  the  forelegs  heavy  and  powerfully  mus- 
cled. It  made  no  move,  even  when  the  little 
investigator  turned  to  leave  the  spot.  She  wasn  't 
in  the  least  afraid,  she  had  the  courage  to  face 


848  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

a  dozen  wolves.  This  was  the  first  live  wolf  she 
had  ever  seen. 

Her  father,  and  his  next  door  neighbor,  Mike 
Curts,  had  killed  many  brown  wolves,  fetching 
the  hides  back  from  their  expeditions  to  be  cured 
before  selling  them.  During  the  past  winter,  an 
exceptionally  well-coated  wolf-hide  rested  on 
her  smallest  brother's  cradle.  Wolves  were 
nothing  new  to  her,  she  had  heard  of  their  fe- 
rocity and  hideousness  ever  since  she  was  old 
enough  to  understand.  But  this  wolf  was  big- 
ger by  far  tha  she  had  ever  seen;  in  color,  it 
was  most  distinctive. 

With  admirable  calmness  she  returned  to  her 
little  companions,  and  told  them  to  go  home, 
that  she  would  fetch  the  cows  alone.  At  first 
they  demurred,  but  she  explained  that  the  beasts 
were  far  away,  that  it  would  make  them  very 
tired  to  climb  to  the  crest  of  the  mountain.  She 
watched  the  two  little  people,  as  they  toddled 
down  the  winding  road,  hand  in  hand.  When 
they  had  gotten  almost  to  the  high-road,  she  re- 
sumed her  way  up  the  mountain  in  search  of 
the  cows. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  349 

As  she  left  the  vicinity  of  the  old  clearing, 
she  looked  back  over  her  shoulder ;  the  wolf  was 
still  sitting  there.  When,  nearly  an  hour  later, 
and  it  was  almost  dark,  she  came  back  with  the 
drove  of  lowing  cattle,  the  brute  was  still  resting 
under  the  apple  tree.  He  made  no  move  to  molest 
cows  or  child.  Caroline,  in  passing  the  wolf,  af- 
fected an  air  of  nonchalance  and  she  even 
stopped  to  pick  a  spray  of  late  asters  directly  op- 
posite to  where  he  sat.  When  she  had  gotten  the 
animals  to  the  highroad  in  safety,  she  threw 
some  pebbles  at  them,  urging  them  into  a  trot, 
which  she  kept  them  to  until  she  caught  up  with 
her  little  brother  and  sister. 

It  was  quite  dark  when  the  party  turned  into 
the  narrow  lane  which  led  to  the  Steyne  cottage. 
"What  makes  you  so  late?"  asked  the  little  cow- 
girl's father,  when  she  turned  the  cattle  over 
to  him. 

Caroline  looked  him  squarely  in  the  eyes,  say- 
ing that  she  had  met  with  a  giant  black  wolf  at 
the  old  clearing  on  the  Bastress  Road. 

"And  you  didn't  run?"  said  the  good  man, 
almost   incredulously. 


350  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

"We  surely  did  not,"  replied  the  little  girl, 
"because  if  we  did,  all  would  have  been  lost." 

Steyne  went  into  the  house  and  told  the  story 
to  his  wife,  who  became  much  agitated.  He  asked 
her  to  milk  the  cows,  then  took  down  his  favorite 
rifle  from  its  rack,  and  strode  out  of  the  house. 
Calling  his  dogs,  he  repaired  to  the  home  of  his 
neighbor,  Mike  Curts.  This  worthy  wolfer 
swung  his  trusty  rifle  over  his  shoulder,  called 
for  his  dogs,  and  accompanied  Steyne  to  the 
home  of  another  neighbor,  John  Phillips.  Like 
a  snowball  rolling  down  hill,  the  hunting  party 
gained  in  numbers.  It  was  joined  by  Jesse 
Hughes,  Jacob  Youngman,  Alanson  Stevens, 
Adam  Greenlee,  Peter  Brosius  and  others. 
Among  them  was  a  pack  of  at  least  twenty 
formidable  looking  dogs. 

As  they  marched  through  Antes  Gap,  swing- 
ing their  tin  lanterns,  they  looked  like  soldiers 
headed  for  the  field  of  battle.  The  fall  hylodes 
serenaded  them  from  the  grass  as  they  tramped 
along.  They  wended  their  way  to  the  old  clearing 
on  the  Bastress  Road,  where  the  dogs  soon  took 
up  the  scent,  although  the  wolf  was  nowhere  to  be 
found.     The  trial  led  up  the  steep  face  of  the 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  351 

mountain,  the  baying  of  the  dogs  making  sweet 
music  in  the  crisp  night-air.  It  was  a  hard 
climb,  and  several  of  the  old-fashioned  lanterns 
were  dropped  and  extinguished.  There  were  a 
few  stars  visible,  but  no  moon. 

On  the  topmost  peak  of  the  mountain,  the  dogs 
seemed  to  have  cornered  their  victim.  They 
drove  it  around  and  around  the  narrow  point, 
alternately  howling  with  pleasure  or  pain.  When 
the  hunters  got  to  them,  the  wolf  had  evidently 
broken  through  the  line  of  its  tormentors  and 
headed  for  the  level  tableland  on  to  the  east. 
There,  if  it  outran  its  pursuers,  it  would  have 
to  break  into  open  country  in  Mosquito  Valley. 
But  it  had  no  such  intention.  After  leading 
the  dogs  a  merry  chase  for  five  miles  straight- 
way, it  doubled  on  its  tracks^  coming  back  in  the 
direction  of  the  hunters. 

John  Phillips,  who  had  been  a  member  of  the 
party  of  deer  slayers  who  had  formed  a  cordon 
across  the  Bald  Eagle  Mountain  a  year  or  so 
previously  suggested  that  the  huntsmen  now 
spread  out,  and  every  man  make  an  effort  to 
stop  the  wolf's  progress  through  their  line.  They 
were  on  a  vast  open  plateau,  where  the  timber 


352  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

did  not  grow  thickly,  it  was  carpeted  with  ferns 
and  huckleberry  bushes;  objects  were  discern- 
able  even  on  a  moonless  night.  It  was  very  cold 
on  that  height,  almost  like  a  night  in  mid- winter. 
Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  wolf  with  the 
angry  hounds  close  at  his  heels.  The  hunters 
primed  their  guns,  wondering  who  would  have 
the  lucky  shot.  As  it  came  in  sight,  it  was  head- 
ed to  go  between  Jesse  Hughes  and  John  Phil- 
lips. Both  were  expert  shots,  and  had  killed 
many  wolves  and  panthers;  they  did  not  calcu- 
late to  miss.  They  had  arranged  to  fire  ahead 
at  the  brute's  head,  so  as  not  to  endanger  one 
another.  On  it  came,  magnified  in  the  uncertain 
light  to  the  size  of  a  horse.  It  would  have  given 
"buck  fever"  to  any  but  experienced  nimrods. 
Hughes  and  Phillips  both  fired  at  thirty  feet. 
They  thought  they  heard  a  snort  of  pain,  but 
the  brute  still  advanced.  The  dogs  were  but  a 
dozen  feet  behind.  As  it  passed  between  the 
two  hunters,  they  struck  at  it  with  their  rifle 
barrels,  dealing  it  heavy  blows  on  the  back.  As 
it  passed  out  of  sight,  it  seemed  to  redouble  its 
speed.  It  darted  down  a  steep  ravine  which  cut 
its.  way  along  the  big  mtmntkiiij  eventually  join- 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  353 

ing  Wi-daagh's  Creek  Hollow,  poted  for  its 
cool  breezes,  which  comes  out  at  the  public  road 
near  the  site  of  the  present  stone  woolen  mill. 

There  was  nothing  for  the  hunters  to  do  but 
to  scramble  down  the  circuitous  gorge  as  best 
they  could.  Part  of  the  way  they  had  to  walk 
over  the  slippery  stones  of  a  running  brook,  and 
bend  over  to  avoid  the  low-hanging  boughs  of 
the  ancient  hemlocks.  All  the  lights  were  lost 
or  extinguished  by  this  time.  The  hunters  were 
stumbling,  tripping,  some  were  swearing.  The 
dogs  were  following  the  trail  bravely,  so  they 
must  back  up  their  faithful  canines.  It  was  now 
the  time  which  the  older  hunters  called  "the 
hour  between  dog  and  wolf. ' '  There  were  streaks 
of  dawn  above  the  mountain  they  had  just  left, 
when  they  came  in  sight  of  the  Antes  Gap  road. 
The  dogs  were  barking  loudly;  it  sounded  as  if 
the  wolf  had  been  brought  to  bay. 

As  the  hunters  crossed  the  road,  a  sorry  look- 
ing, torn  and  exhausted  lot,  they  could  see  two 
thin  trails  of  blood,  side  by  side,  in  the  sand. 
There  was  also  blood  on  the  worm  fence  on  the 
far  side  of  the  road,  over  which  the  wolf  had 
leaped.     Beyond  the  fence  was  an  open  field, 


354  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

with  a  few  old  apple  trees  in  it.  A  dense  fog 
had  risen  from  the  creek;  it  was  difficult  to  see 
far  ahead.  The  hunters  were  almost  upon  the 
dogs  and  the  wolf  before  they  saw  them.  They 
could  only  judge  the  distance  by  the  terrific 
racket.  In  the  grey  morning  light  they  could 
make  out  the  wolf,  propped  up  against  one  of 
the  apple  trees,  his  forefeet  bloody  and  helpless, 
biting  and  snapping  at  the  hounds. 

Already  several  of  the  dogs  appeared  to  have 
had  enough  of  it;  one  of  them  had  both  of  his 
long  ears  chewed  off.  But  the  wolf,  game  to 
the  end,  was  evidently  determined  to  die  fight- 
ing. Mike  Curts,  who  was  the  first  man  on  the 
scene,  levelled  his  rifle  at  the  monster's  skull, 
and  fired.  There  was  a  loud  report,  and  when 
the  smoke  and  vapor  lifted,  the  wolf  lay  dead 
among  the  on-rushing  dogs.  It  took  the  com- 
bined strength  of  all  the  hunters  to  beat  the 
hounds  off,  and  prevent  them  from  tearing  the 
carcass  to  pieces.  It  was  rescued,,  and  before 
skinning,  laid  out  in  the  field  and  measured. 
From  tip  to  tip,  it  came  to  three  inches  under 
six  feet.  Its  estimated  weight  was  one  hundred 
po'imfls.   ...  . 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  355 

The  hunters  examined  it  carefully,  noticing 
that  in  addition  to  Curts'  bullet,  it  had  been 
shot  through  both  shoulders.  These  were  the 
bullets  put  at  it  by  John  Phillips  and  Jesse 
Hughes;  had  they  not  hit,  doubtless  it  would 
have  eluded  its  pursuers.  With  both  fore-shoul- 
ders broken,  it  had  run  down  the  precipitous 
mountain  side,  across  a  four-foot  fence,  keeping 
on  bravely  until  pain  and  disabilities  compelled 
it  to  make  its  last  stand  by  the  old  apple  tree. 

John  Phillips  looked  at  it,  saying,  ^'Boys,  we 
have  made  a  great  kill,  this  is  surely  the  famous 
packet-boat  wolf."  Then  he  shook  Mike  Curts 
by  the  hand,  telling  him  that  he  deserved  a 
deathless  fame  for  speeding  the  deciding  bullet- 
The  other  hunters  grouped  around  the  lucky 
man,  overwhelming  him  with  congratulations. 

Curts  shook  his  head,  saying  that  the  real 
credit  was  due  to  little  Caroline  Steyne,  who 
had  given  the  alarm. 

That  night,  when  the  Williamsport-Lock  Ha- 
ven packet-boat  made  its  initial  trip  after  the 
repairs  to  the  canal  consequent  to  the  great  flood, 
no  barking  wolf  followed  its  lights  from  the  dis- 
tant summits  of  the  **dark  and  sombre  ridg^" 


366 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 


of  the  Bald  Eagles.  All  was  still,  except  the 
melancholy  hylodes  in  the  tall,  twisted  acacia 
trees  by  the  tow-path.  Night  followed  night,  but 
the  packet-wolf  was  never  heard  again.  He  had 
ended  his  life  of  mystery  fighting  gamely  like  a 
black  knight. 


XVII. 

THE  CURSED  WOODS. 
(A  Legend  of  One  of  Nature's  Blights.) 

E  were  riding  along  the  out- 
skirts of  the  Black  Forest,  one 
afternoon  in  the  early  autumn. 
For  a  long  distance  the  original 
forest  grew  close  to  both  sides 
of  the  road.  The  gaint  hemlocks  and  beeches 
towered  seemingly  to  the  Blue  Dome,  the  dark 
green  of  the  former,  and  the  paler  green  of  the 
latter  producing  a  marvelous  tapestried  effect. 
The  pure  air,  the  breath  of  the  forest,  swept 
across  our  path  in  every  ravine,  through  which 
little  streams,  newly  born,  meandered,  their 
courses  checkered  by  fallen,  moss-covered  logs. 
Beneath  the  giant  trees  was  a  mysterious  pur- 
ple light,  not  unlike  what  one  sees  in  old  cathe- 
drals in  France  and  Italy,  where  there  is  much 
mediaeval,  richly-tinted  stained  glass.  The 
ground  was  carpeted  with  moss,  with  here  and 
there  tufts  of  delicate  ferns,  and  in  the  deeper 

867 


358  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

recesses  grew  the  porcelain-like  beech-drops.  In 
the  soft  light,  it  was  only  in  keeping  that  the 
songs  of  the  birds  should  be  subdued.  Once  we 
heard  the  solo  of  a  Blackburnian  warbler,  and  on 
several  occasions  dimly  the  echoes  of  the  wood- 
thrush's  exquisite  choir.  On  one  occasion,  a 
porcupine  ambled  across  the  road  some  distance 
in  front  of  our  horses,  looking  like  some  digni- 
fied sacristan. 

We  felt  ourselves  in  Nature 's  Cathedral,  which 
alas,  like  many  other  cathedrals,  was  only  too 
soon  to  be  levelled  by  the  ruthless  hand  of  man. 
If  ancient  churches  must  fall  to  make  room  for 
improvements,  what  chance  has  a  forest,  remote 
from  appreciative  persons,  who  at  most  are  a 
small  and  sometimes  un-influential  class?  But 
it  is  a  great  pity  nevertheless  that  future  genera- 
tions, and  most  of  the  present  generation,  must 
regard  the  Black  Forest  as  a  tradition,  with  only 
a  few  published  descriptions  and  fewer  photo- 
graphs as  proofs  that  it  actually  existed. 

Fortunate,  yes  blessed,  is  the  writer  of  these 
lines,  though  born  in  a  great  city,  to  have  spent 
considerable  time  and  been  in  a  measure  able 
to  appreciate  Nature's  Cathedral,  the  vast  and 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  359 

limitless,  the  inspiring,  the  soft-lighted  and 
sweet-scented,  the  ever  happy,  the  vanished  for- 
ever Black  Forest  of  Pennsylvania. 

As  we  rode  along,  we  came  to  several  small 
clearings,  in  which  stood  log-cabins  and  log 
bams.  The  dwellers  in  these  modest  abodes 
worked  in  the  lumber  camps,  also  raising  pota- 
toes and  hay  to  sell  to  the  lumbermen.  In  the 
fence  corners  were  a  number  of  original  chest- 
nut trees,  saved  from  the  demolition  of  the  sur- 
rounding woods,  great  slim-boled  monarchs, 
sending  up  shafts  a  hundred  feet,  unmarred  by 
branches,  culminating  in  graceful,  umbrella- 
shaped  tops.  These  big  trees  were  laden  with 
the  green-burrs,  as  it  was  before  the  days  of 
the  chestnut  blight.  In  those  days,  it  seemed 
unthinkable  that  suddenly  a  whole  race  of  trees 
could  be  literally  swept  off  the  face  of  the  earth, 
and  man  powerless  to  stop  it.  The  axe  might  do 
it,  but  never  an  invisible  insect ! 

As  we  rode  further  on,  the  gilt  clouds  of  the 
golden  hour  succeeded  the  bluer  coloring  of  the 
afternoon  sky.  We  came  near  a  strange  looking 
area  on  the  brow  of  a  hill.  For  a  stretch  of 
possibly  fifty  or  sixty  acres  all  the  timber  on 


860  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

both  sides  of  the  road  was  dead.  The  white, 
barkless  trunks  were  in  strange  contrast  to  the 
living,  porpitating  green  of  the  growing  trees. 
It  was  like  the  skeleton  at  the  wedding  feast,  or 
the  graveyard  of  the  Black  Forest !  As  we  drew 
nearer  we  saw  the  remains  of  a  little  clearing, 
with  the  rotting  foundations  of  a  cabin,  a  half- 
fallen  down  chimney  and  out-buildings,  but  all 
strangely  barren  and  devoid  of  berry-bushes, 
sumacs,  Virginia  creepers,  and  fireweed,  the  usu- 
al complement  of  ruins  in  these  parts.  About 
the  buildings  were  a  few  broken  stobs  of  ancient 
apple  trees.  It  looked  like  a  picture  of  desola- 
tion, no  wonder  the  property  had  been  aband- 
oned. 

Yet  the  sombre  has  always  had  a  charm  for 
the  writer.  Just  as  he  would  always  stop  at  old 
graveyards  to  decipher  the  inscriptions,  and 
ponder  over  the  lives  of  the  interred,  this  dead 
forest,  this  dead  house,  this  dead  ground,  pecu- 
liarly appealed  to  him.  He  reined  up  his  horse 
Trident,  gazing  intently  at  the  solemn  scene. 

All  was  silent  until  a  red-headed  woodpacker 
began  banging  like  a  trip-hammer  at  the  silvery 
trunk  of  one  of  the  dead  hemlocks.     It  looked 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  361 

as  if  some  beetle  or  blight  had  ravaged  the  forest, 
and  the  dwellers  in  the  humble  home  at  its  edge, 
overcome  by  the  awesomenss  of  death,  had  moved 
away  horribly  depressed.  For  even  the  death 
of  trees,  and  even  flowers  can  affect  some  of  us. 
Or  perhaps  a  forest  fire  had  killed  the  trees, 
and  the  dwellers  had  fled  for  their  lives,  never 
to  return.  Or  perhaps  they  had  given  up  their 
lives  fighting  the  flames  at  the  edge  of  the  clear- 
ing. There  were  no  signs  that  the  buildings 
had  been  burned;  if  fire  was  the  destroyer,  a 
rain  or  back-fire  must  have  stopped  it  before 
the  buildings  were  reached. 

These  and  many  other  thoughts  puzzled  the 
writer,  as  he  sat  on  his  faithful  horse  that  calm 
September  evening.  But  there  was  no  immedi- 
ate answer  until  that  night,  when  a  stop  was 
made  at  Dyer's  comfortable  boarding  house  at 
the  headwaters  of  the  East  Branch  of  Young 
Woman's  Creek.  There  the  writer  met  an  old 
friend,  a  Grand  Army  man,  who  knew  the  woods 
well,  and  whose  active  mind  teemed  with  legends 
and  anecdotes  of  the  long  ago.  He  was  the  only 
person  at  the  supper  table  who  was  aware  of 
the  story  of  the  dead  timber  and  the  abandoned 


362  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

clearing.  Most  of  those  living  along  the  Pike 
did  not  possess  memories  long  enough,  perhaps 
some  of  them,  imbued  with  the  materialism 
which  was  soon  to  sweep  away  the  Black  Forest, 
didn't  care. 

After  supper  a  stroll  was  taken  along  the 
rocky  road  which  led  from  the  Dyer  home  to 
the  Pike,  while  the  old  soldier  unravelled  the 
mystery.  It  dated  back  to  the  dark  days  of 
1832,  when  the  United  States  Government,  urged 
on  by  the  "big  business"  of  that  time,  made  a 
treaty  with  the  Menomonies,  a  tribe  of  Indians 
living  near  Green  Bay,  Wisconsin,  by  which 
five  hundred  thousand  acres  of  land  were  pur- 
chased from  them  as  a  future  home  for  the  Sene- 
cas  and  other  redmen,  residing  in  New  York 
State.  It  was  stipulated  that  the  New  York  In- 
dians should  be  removed  there  within  three 
years,  or  their  right  to  it  would  be  forfeited, 
and  it  would  revert  to  the  United  States. 

This,  it  was  hoped,  would  induce  them  to  seU 
their  reservations  in  New  York  to  the  shrewd 
land  grabbers  on  easy  terms.  The  Senecas  paid 
no  attention  to  the  treaty.  They  were  satisfied 
with  their  old  homes,  where  they  had  been  so 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  363 

happy,  and  cared  nothing  for  the  forfeiture  of 
lands  which  they  had  not  purchased  and  did  not 
want.  In  the  hope  that  they  might  be  brought 
to  change  their  minds,  a  supplementary  article 
was  procured,  by  which  the  tiine  for  their  re- 
moval was  left  to  the  discretion  of  the  President. 
In  this  way  matters  remained  until  1837. 

About  this  time,  the  magnates  who  desired  to 
obtain  the  Indians'  lands  in  New  York,  became 
impatient,  and  sent  a  band  of  hired  agents  to 
bring  the  matter  to  a  head,  by  bribery  or  other- 
wise. One  of  these  agents  afterwards  said  that 
he  had  paid  one  chief  two  thousand  dollars  cash, 
and  gave  him  a  lease  at  nominal  rental  during 
occupancy,  of  the  farm  on  which  he  lived,  on 
consideration  that  he  used  the  best  of  his  exer- 
tions and  endeavors  to  secure  a  treaty  such  as 
the  land  company  desired,  which  would  insure 
the  speedy  removal  of  the  Indians.  He  was 
promised  further  pay  at  the  time  of  the  removal. 
Another  chief,  upon  the  removal,  was  to  receive 
five  thousand  dollars  cash. 

As  the  result  of  bribery,  and  the  debauching 
and  making  drunk  of  the  chiefs,  a  number  of 
signatures  were  secured  ratifying  the  treaty  of 


364  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

removal.  Among  the  signers  were  ten  Indians 
who  had  been  made  chiefs  illegally  for  the  espe- 
cial purpose  of  signing  the  treaty.  Six  actual 
chiefs  whose  signatures  appeared  solemnly 
swore  that  they  never  signed  it,  nor  authorized 
others  to  sign  it  in  their  behalf.  But  the  signa- 
tures of  a  majority  of  chiefs  real  or  fraudulent 
were  never  obtained.  But  the  result  was,  as 
expected,  the  Senecas  were  crowded  into  a  nar- 
row reservation,  stripped  of  their  best  lands, 
and  humbled  to  the  dirt. 

The  Indian  who  was  to  receive  five  thousand 
dollars  in  cash  at  the  time  when  the  Senecas 
were  compelled  to  part  with  their  choicest  lands, 
clamored  for  his  pay,  but  it  was  not  forth-com- 
ing. He  was  told  that  matters  had  not  turned 
out  quite  as  were  expected,  that  the  land  com- 
pany owed  him  nothing.  As  a  traitor  to  his 
people  he  had  ''burned  his  bridges,"  now  he 
would  not  even  have  enough  money  to  leave  the 
country.  He  was  ostracized;  his  life  threat- 
ened ;  the  only  thing  left  was  to  get  away.  The 
fat,  well-paid  agents  of  the  land  company 
sneered  at  him,  and  finally  threw  him  bodily  out 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  365 

of  their  office  in  Batavia,  when  he  became  too 
loud  in  his  protests. 

In  his  fall  down  a  flight  of  steps  he  broke  both 
legs.  His  squaw  and  his  sons  carried  him  into 
the  centre  of  a  swamp,  where  they  nursed  him 
until  he  was  able  to  get  about  again.  He  was 
a  wretched  cripple  after  that,  hobbling  about 
with  two  heavy  staffs.  On  his  first  re-appear- 
ance in  the  village,  he  was  set  upon  by  two  half- 
breeds  in  the  employ  of  the  land  agents  and 
beaten  into  insensibility.  That  was  an  invita- 
tion, without  words,  never  to  come  to  town  again. 
His  sons  found  him  more  helpless  than  ever, 
lying  by  the  roadside  the  next  morning.  White 
men  going  to  and  fro  from  the  settlement  had 
seen  the  unconscious  figure,  but  offered  no  help. 
Let  us  be  charitable  and  say  that  they  thought 
he  was  a  drunken  Indian,  a  sight  common 
enough  in  those  days. 

Robbed  of  his  high  estate,  the  renegade  chief 
went  by  the  name  of  Billy  Bowlegs,  on  account 
of  the  crookedness  of  his  limbs  after  his  acci- 
dent. But  he  must  not  be  confused  with  the 
Seminole  Chief  Bowlegs,  who  was  a  very  dif- 


366  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

ferent  sort  of  person,  and  who  was  a  leader  in 
the  uprising  of  1812  on  the  Georgian  frontier. 

The  sons  of  Billy  Bowlegs  in  some  manner  be- 
came the  owners  of  a  very  dilapidated  looking 
horse,  a  travesty  on  the  equine  race,  blind  of 
both  eyes,  and  minus  ears  and  tail.  It  had  been 
mutilated  by  some  previous  Indian  owner  in  a 
drunken  orgy,  but  survived  its  hurts  for  many 
years.  On  this  the  crippled  chief  was  mounted, 
like  Hudibras,  and  started  for  the  ''free  coun- 
try" in  Pennsylvania.  Poles,  like  shafts,  were 
affixed  to  the  horse,  and  it  drew  a  kind  of  tra- 
vois,  on  which  were  loaded  the  household  uten- 
sils. The  old  squaw  and  the  sons  marched  along- 
side, forming  a  curious-loking  ' '  cavalcade. ' ' 

In  order  to  avoid  ridicule  or  interference, 
most  of  the  travelling  was  done  by  night.  Two 
Indian  dogs  of  the  ancient  grey-colored  breed, 
accompanied  the  party  in  order  to  ward  off  at- 
tacks from  the  night-prowling  canines  of  the 
settlers,  whose  homes  they  necessarily  must  pass. 
And  the  Indian  dogs,  with  their  wolfish  aspect, 
their  small,  erect,  pointed  ears,  were  a  match  for 
any  dog  of  European  stock,  no  matter  if  twice 
thfeir   31^.     The   party   followted   the   Geneaee 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  367 

River  to  its  source,  and  then  climbed  over  the 
ridge,  and  moved  southerly  along  the  Genesee 
Fork  of  Tiadaghton. 

At  about  the  present  site  of  Galeton,  they  left 
the  creek,  continuing  south,  until  they  found  a 
comfortable  location  along  the  Coudersport  Pike, 
then  in  course  of  construction.  They  camped 
near  a  sweet  spring,  finding  hunting  and  trap- 
ping good.  When  the  Pike  was  completed,  they 
pre-empted  a  log-cabin,  which  had  been  occu- 
pied by  a  gang  of  Irish  laborers.  Only  enough 
trees  had  been  cut  out  of  the  forest  to  make  room 
for  the  structure,  but  the  two  young  Indians 
soon  set  to  work  making  a  field  of  tillable  size 
about  it.  This  they  planted  with  apple,  peach, 
pear  and  plum  trees,  which  they  carried  all  the 
way  from  Coudersport,  having  obtained  them  in 
exchange  for  furs. 

Nobody  seemed  to  claim  the  land  on  which 
they  were  living.  "White  men  with  whom  they 
talked  said  it  could  be  bought  for  fifty  cents  an 
acre,  if  the  rightful  owners  could  be  found.  At 
that  time,  if  it  had  private  ownership,  it  was 
being  sold  and  re-sold  for  taxes.  Nobody  wanted 
Buob  remot^j  mountainous  landv    Hemlock  tim- 


368  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

ber  had  no  value,  besides  the  Black  Forest  was 
so  far  from  market.  Some  of  this  land  was  sur- 
veyed for  the  first  time  by  James  David  and  his 
son  Flavius  ,about  1865,  several  years  after  Billy 
Bowlegs  had  gone  to  his  future  state. 

Like  Red-Jacket,  with  whom  he  had  once  been 
on  terms  of  intimacy,  the  crippled  chief  held  to 
his  Pagan  faith.  He  believed  in  the  Gitchi- 
Manitto  or  Great  Spirit,  with  a  host  of  lesser 
divinities,  and  a  rcM^ard  for  the  spirits  of  the 
brave.  But  his  beliefs  were  not  very  coherent, 
neither  did  they  form  a  very  active  part  in  his 
every-day  life.  He  was  of  a  sullen,  taciturn  dis- 
position in  his  latter  years,  very  different  from 
his  sons. 

The  boys  became  fast  friends  with  the  stage- 
drivers  and  packers,  who  generally  watered 
their  horses  at  the  spring  at  the  clearing.  This 
brought  them  in  touch  with  travellers  and  trad- 
ers, who  bought  their  furs  without  their  having 
to  take  them  to  Coudersport  or  Jersey  Shore.  To 
attract  attention  they  always  kept  bear,  panther, 
wolf,  fisher,  fox  and  deer  skins  nailed  on  the  cabin 
and  the  out-buildings.  Many  persons  not  other- 
wise inteirestfed  wotdd  see  the  hides,,  and  want  to 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  369 

buy  one  or  two  or  them  as  souvenirs  of  their 
trip  through  the  Black  Forest.  Occasionally 
the  boys  guided  parties  on  hunting  or  fishing 
expeditions,  but  in  those  days  the  region  was 
too  remote  to  be  known  by  many  city  sportsmen. 
When  panthers,  wolves  and  elk  could  be  killed 
in  the  "Elk  Forest"  in  the  Pocono  Mountains, 
and  bears,  wild-cats,  deer  and  even  wolves  were 
still  abundant  in  the  Blue  Mountains,  hunters 
from  Philadelphia,  Harrisburg,  Lancaster  and 
Reading  did  not  find  it  necessary  to  take  a  long 
journey  like  to  Potter  County  in  search  of  game, 
big  or  small. 

Billy  Bowlegs  hated  the  sight  of  all  strangers, 
but  especially  white  men.  He  might  have  had 
a  lingering  fear  of  being  dispossessed,  or  the 
unforgetable  memory  of  the  chicanery  and  vio- 
lence he  had  suffered  at  their  hands.  Indians 
occasionally  spent  a  night  at  the  cabin  upon  in- 
vitation of  the  boys  or  the  squaw,  but  they  were 
mostly  Pennsylvania  redskins,  who  were  igno- 
rant of  the  land  steals  in  New  York  State.  To 
these  the  old  chief  was  courteous,  but  had  little 
to  say. 


370  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

When  New  York  Indians  appeared,  the  entire 
family  put  forward  every  effort  to  conceal  their 
identities.  They  might  have  been  murdered  in 
their  sleep  had  the  truth  been  known.  The  old 
man  was  too  decrepid  to  do  any  farming  or 
wood-cutting,  but  took  the  greatest  pride  in  his 
little  orchard.  The  altitude  was  favorable  for 
fruit  culture,  and  in  those  days  of  abundant 
birds,  scales  and  insect  pests  were  unknown. 
The  chief  pleasure  was  in  trimming  and  graft- 
ing, and  digging  about  the  roots  of  the  grow- 
ing trees.  Some  Indian  apple  trees  were  found 
along  nightman's  Creek,  being  transplanted 
with  excellent  results  and  other  varieties  grafted 
on  them. 

The  old  savage  was  very  happy  in  his  wilder- 
ness home.  He  forgot  about  his  wrongs  when  he 
saw  no  white  men;  he  was  leading  a  new  life 
as  it  were.  His  greatest  joy  was  looking  forward 
to  the  year  when  his  trees  would  bear  for  the 
first  time.  "While  the  peach  trees  had  already 
blossomed,  the  others  would  all  bear  fruit  at 
about  the  same  time.  But  he  was  impatient, 
waiting  for  the  time,  often  cursing  and  swear- 
ing wh^  raiufy  days  tJamfe,  whfdh  passed  ^cfwly. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  371 

"With  no  education,  he  had  no  mental  resources 
to  ease  his  irritable  disposition.  He  had  been 
born  for  a  life  of  activity  and  leadership  which 
had  been  denied  him  through  his  being  a  traitor 
and  a  cripple.  He  had  been  in  his  mountain 
retreat  about  eight  years  when  the  season  for 
the  fruit  crop  drew  near.  The  previous  winter 
was  long,  and  he  was  never  before  so  exacting 
and  cantankerous.  He  was  always  cursing  the 
slow  passage  of  time,  going  into  paroxysms  of 
rage  at  every  snowfall,  which  might  delay  the 
coming  of  the  bluebirds.  His  sons  often  camped 
in  the  forest,  ostensibly  to  trap,  to  get  aAvay  from 
)iim;  the  old  squaw  was  worried  into  a  state  of 
prostration. 

With  the  coming  of  the  blue-birds,  the  shad- 
cocks  and  the  shad-flies,  the  old  man  was  some- 
what more  composed.  The  boys  entertained  him 
all  they  could,  carrying  him  in  a  litter  to  Right- 
man 's  Creek,  where  he  could  see  them  catching 
the  mammoth  suckers  with  their  hands.  But  he 
was  hard  to  divert.  All  he  could  talk  or  think 
about  was  blossom-time,  and  his  prospective 
fruit-crop.  His  father  and  grandfather  had 
been  famed  for  their  orchards ;  it  ■w'as  one  of  his 


372  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

grandfather's  plantations  that  was  cut  down  by 
General  Sullivan  during  the  expedition  into  the 
Iroquois  Country  in  1777. 

The  blossoms  came  out  in  all  their  loveliness, 
in  what  appeared  to  be  an  early  spring.  Surely 
they  would  be  followed  by  an  immense  crop  for 
such  young  trees,  if  climatic  conditions  contin- 
ued favorable.  The  aged  Indian  literally  lived 
in  his  orchard,  watching  the  various  colored, 
sweet-scented  blooms  with  the  concern  of  a  pa- 
rent. He  carried  a  shot  gun  all  the  time,  killing 
every  bird  that  drew  near  his  precious  trees. 
In  that  respect  he  was  a  precursor  of  the  siUy 
generations  of  white  men,  who  slaughtered  the 
birds,  their  best  friends,  when  they  visited  their 
orchards  and  gardens  for  the  purpose  of  devour- 
ing insect  pests. 

One  evening,  while  the  blossoms  were  at  their 
height,  the  siin  went  down  unusually  silvery  and 
cold.  The  old  man  sat  by  the  red  glow  of  his 
open  fire-place,  while  the  North  wind  blew  down 
the  chimney  and  whistled  about  the  eaves  of  the 
house.  Outside  the  giant  hemlocks  swayed  and 
creaked  with  ominous  cadences.  The  Indian  was 
too  cold  and  shivery  to  worry  abolit  his  triees 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  373 

his  squaw  and  sons  feared  to  mention  the  sub- 
ject to  him.  During  the  night  the  wind  ceased, 
but  a  heavy  frost  occurred.  When  the  old  man 
looked  out  of  doors  in  the  morning,  the  ground 
was  white ;  when  the  sun  came  out  every  blossom 
was  killed  by  the  black  frost. 

It  was  then  and  there  that  old  Billy  Bowlegs 
lost  his  self-control.  Cursing  and  screaming  he 
ran  out  into  the  orchard  as  fast  as  his  long  staffs 
would  permit.  He  hurled  imprecations  and  an- 
athemas against  the  Gitchi-Manitto  that  permit- 
ted such  a  blight  to  occur.  He  shook  his  staff 
at  the  Heavens,  stamped  his  lame  feet,  and  ex- 
erted himself  so  much  that  he  became  dizzy, 
sinking  to  the  ground  in  a  heap.  The  frightened 
family,  awed  by  the  old  man's  blasphemy  and 
violent  actions,  stood  quiescent  in  the  doorway 
until  they  saw  him  fall.  Then  they  rushed  for- 
ward, picking  him  up  tenderly  and  carried  him 
into  the  house  .  They  pried  open  his  whiskered 
lips,  and  poured  a  pint  of  whiskey  down  his 
throat.  When  he  came  to  himself,  it  was  not 
in  a  spirit  of  thankfulness  that  he  spoke,  but 
with  a  renewed  torrent  of  profanity.  This  he 
kept  up  all  day  long,  until  he  sank  asleep,  ex- 


374  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

hausted  at  nightfall.  When  he  woke  up  the 
next  morning,  he  was  too  weak  to  leave  his 
couch,  though  his  mind  seemed  to  be  more  ra- 
tional. 

He  attributed  the  unseasonable  frost  which 
had  killed  the  blossoms  to  the  curse  put  on  him 
at  the  time  he  had  betrayed  his  tribesmen  to  the 
land  thieves,  but  not  to  his  long  continued  prac- 
tice of  profanity. 

"But  I  still  have  the  trees,  in  another  year 
I  '11  have  blossoms  again, ' '  was  the  extent  of  his 
philosophy. 

But  even  that  was  not  to  be.  By  some  strange 
phenomenon  of  nature,  the  trees  were  killed  at 
the  same  time  as  the  blossoms.  The  leaves  shriv- 
elled, and  no  new  ones  came  out  again.  By  au- 
tumn the  trunks  and  branches  were  dry  and 
brittle.  The  old  Indian  suffered  keenly  from 
this  added  disappointment.  He  went  around 
the  orchard  every  evening,  cutting  off  twigs  in 
the  hope  of  finding  signs  of  life  somewhere. 
When  he  returned  for  supper,  he  stormed  and 
swore,    eating   little   in   his    excited   condition. 

Once  he  was  so  angry  that  he  threw  a  cup 
of   scalding    coffee    over    his    faithful    squaw's 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  376 

breast  and  shoulders.  In  a  civilized  commiinity, 
he  would  have  been  locked  up;  in  the  Black 
Forest  he  could  act  as  mean  as  he  wished  until 
the  end. 

In  the  next  spring,  a  few  of  the  apple  trees 
sprouted  out  at  the  roots,  but  most  of  these  died 
away  during  the  dry  spell  in  August,  despite 
the  old  man's  valiant  efforts  to  keep  them  wa- 
tered. When  he  saw  that  his  work  was  in  vain, 
he  turned  his  thoughts  to  the  big  hemlock  tim- 
ber, which  stood  on  three  sides  of  his  clearing. 

"Boys,"  he  said  to  his  sons,  "some  day  those 
trees  will  make  a  fortune  for  us.  Go  out  and 
stake  off  a  hundred  acres,  and  when  we  have 
been  here  twenty-one  years  unmolested,  it  will 
be  mine  in  the  sight  of  the  law." 

There  was  considerable  foresight  in  this,  as 
settlers  were  beginning  to  take  up  homesteads 
along  the  Pike,  and  there  was  an  increasing  de- 
mand for  lumber.  Several  Irishmen,,  who  had 
helped  to  build  the  road  had  remained,  and 
after  ten  years  had  improved  farms  of  which 
they  could  be  proud;  and  now  Swiss,  Germans 
and  New  Englanders  were  coming.  The  boys 
blazed  the  trees  on  what  they  approximated  to 


876  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

be  a  hundred  acres,  chuckling  to  themselves  over 
their  father's  sagacity. 

''Some  day,"  said  one  of  the  youths,  "the 
old  man  will  get  five  thousand  dollars  for  this 
timber,  or  just  as  much  as  the  damned  land 
agents  in  York  State  cheated  him  out  of." 

Years  passed,  and  no  claimant  for  the  hundred 
acres  appeared.  Billy  Bowlegs,  under  the  name 
of  William  Green,  took  title  to  the  tract  at  the 
Court  House  in  Coudersport.  He  was  eighty 
years  old,  but  it  had  paid  him  to  be  patient ;  his 
impatience  had  been  punished  in  the  past.  He 
had  long  since  given  up  his  hobby  for  fruit  trees, 
and  of  later  years  had  turned  his  attention  to 
garden-truck  and  bees.  The  latter  the  Indians 
used  to  call  the  "white  men 's  flies. ' '  One  by  one 
the  tracts  of  land  along  the  Pike  had  been  taken 
up  and  cleared;  those  further  back  had  passed 
into  the  hands  of  big  lumber  companies  in  Wil- 
liamsport  and  New  York  State.  There  were  a 
dozen  small  sawmills  on  the  Pike  between  Jer- 
sey Shore  and  Coudersport. 

One  summer  afternoon,  a  ponderous  German, 
who  was  buying  up  hemlock  lands  for  a  tanning 
company,  stopped  at  the  old  man's  home.     He 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  377 

liked  the  looks  of  the  thrifty  body  of  white  hem- 
locks, which  adjoined  to  the  north  a  much  larger 
tract  which  he  purchased  the  year  before  at  a 
tax-sale.  In  fact,  it  gave  him  right  of  way  to 
the  Pike.  He  priced  the  Indian's  timber,  but 
he  said  he  would  not  sell  it  without  the  land  and 
buildings,  all  of  which  he  held  at  five  thousand 
dollars. 

The  German  offered  him  three  thousand, 
which  he  accepted  on  the  condition  that  his  boys 
be  given  the  job  for  peeling  the  bark  the  fol- 
lowing summer,  and  that  a  cash  rental  be  paid 
for  allowing  the  camps  and  stables  to  be  erected 
on  his  clearing  facing  the  Pike.  All  this  he 
figured  would  bring  the  total  up  to  the  five  thou- 
sand mark.  That  night  was  the  happiest  the  old 
man  had  spent  since  the  days  before  he  had  be- 
come a  traitor  and  exile. 

The  big  job  was  to  be  opened  the  following 
spring,  and  he  would  have  cash  for  his  timber, 
work  for  his  boys,  rent  for  his  ground,  and  he 
might  raise  some  potatoes  and  hay  for  the  woods- 
men and  their  teams. 

During  the  dry  spell,  which  lasted  from  early 
in  August  into  September,  he  noticed  that  some 


878  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

of  the  hemlock  trees  were  becoming  brown.  He 
sent  the  boys  to  investigate;  they  reported  that 
a  beetle  was  working  under  the  bark.  Every  tree 
seemed  to  be  affected,  they  said. 

The  old  man 's  confidence  for  the  future  turned 
to  alarm.  Every  day  he  looked  at  the  forest 
back  of  the  house ;  the  trees  seemed  to  the  brown- 
ing before  his  eyes.  By  autumn  some  of  them 
had  lost  their  needles  entirely.  During  the  win- 
ter, the  disease,  or  whatever  it  was  progressed. 
By  the  first  of  April,  when  the  German  returned 
to  close  the  contract,  every  tree  was  doomed. 
Among  the  hard,  dry  trunks  could  be  heard  the 
"boom,  boom,  boom,"  of  the  strong  bills  of  the 
pileated  woodpeckers  or  weather  cocks.  Al- 
though the  work  of  the  hemlock  beetles  is  plen- 
tiful enough  to-day,  the  German  tanneryman 
had  never  seen  the  like. 

"What  is  the  cause  of  it?"  he  asked  with 
wonderment  in  his  voice. 

"Shall  I  tell  you  the  truth?"  replied  the  old 
Indian,  with  a  sob  in  his  voice.  ' '  They  are  cursed 
woods ;  I  sold  out  my  tribe  to  land  thieves  thirty 
years  ago;  I  have  had  no  luck  since." 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 


379 


The  old  squaw,  who  was  peeling  potatoes  in- 
side the  kitchen  hobbled  to  the  back  door.  ' '  Billy 
may  have  been  a  traitor,  but  I  don't  think  he 
meant  any  harm;  his  bad  luck  came  from  an- 
other reason.  He  was  always  cursing  and  swear- 
ing and  blaming  the  Heavens,  and  none  can  pros- 
per who  do  that." 


XVIII. 

THE  SCREAMING  SKULL. 
(A  Ghost  Story  of  the  Pike.) 

HERE  is  universality  to  psychic 
experience.  Readers  of  In- 
gram's "Haunted  Houses,  and 
Family  Legends  of  Great  Brit- 
ain" will  remember  the  tale  of 
the  "screaming  skull"  of  Bettiscombe  House, 
near  Bridport,  in  Dorsetshire,  which  made  an 
awful  racket  every  time  it  was  moved  from  its 
favorite  resting  place  on  a  window-ledge.  There 
was  a  story  of  another  screaming  skull  current 
on  the  Coudersport  Pike  a  score  of  years  ago, 
which  had  many  points  of  similarity  to  the  Eng- 
lish legend. 

This  goes  to  prove  that  all  legends  have  had  a 
common  origin,  or  that  there  are  as  definite  laws 
in  the  unseen,  not  understood  world,  as  in  the 
physical  world,  the  laws  of  which  mankind  is 
slowly  growing  to  understand.  The  writer  of 
these  lines  would  like  to  believe  that  there  is  an 
S80 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  381 

unseen  world  which  some  day  will  be  laid  before 
us,  after  we  have  grasped  the  facts  of  the  world 
we  see  about  us.  And  he  has  had  intimations 
of  such  a  world,  else  he  could  not  seriously  at- 
tempt the  task  of  preserving  stories  such  as 
these. 

But  even  apart  from  ghost  stories,  there  is  a 
current  parallelism  between  all  legends.  Hart- 
ing,  in  his  ' '  Extinct  British  Animals, ' '  speaks  of 
a  soldier  in  Ireland,  on  his  way  to  take  passage 
for  England,  who  had  to  pass  through  a  wood, 
and  being  weary  sat  down  under  a  tree,  opening 
his  knapsack  which  contained  some  victuals  and 
commencing  to  eat. 

Suddenly  he  was  surprised  by  several  wolves, 
which  were  coming  towards  him ;  he  threw  them 
some  scraps  of  bread  and  cheese  until  all  was 
gone.  The  wolves  made  a  closer  approach  to  him, 
and  he  knew  not  what  to  do,  so  he  took  a  pair 
of  bagpipes  which  he  had,  and  as  soon  as  he 
began  to  play  upon  them,  all  the  wolves  ran 
away  as  if  they  had  been  scared  out  of  their 
wits.  The  soldier,  disgusted,  cried  out,  "A  pox 
take  you  all,  if  I  had  known  you  had  loved 


382  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

music  so  well,  you  should  have  had  it  before 
dinner. ' ' 

A  month  ago  the  writer  visited  Treaster  Val- 
ley, Mifflin  County,  in  order  to  secure  some  veri- 
fication of  one  01  the  legends  contained  in  this 
collection.  Among  the  many  interesting  persons 
he  met  was  one  man  whose  father  had  been  a 
great  wolfer  in  the  Seven  Mountains. 

This  man  stated  that  once  when  the  old  gen- 
tleman in  question  was  a  youth,  and  courting 
the  girl  whom  he  afterwards  married,  he  was 
followed  one  night  by  several  black  wolves.  They 
pressed  him  so  closely  for  such  a  long  distance 
that  he  determined  to  ward  them  off  in  some  way. 
He  backed  up  against  a  tree,  and  began  throwing 
to  the  brutes  pieces  of  smoked  meat,  which  he 
had  with  him  in  a  basket.  "When  it  was  all  gone, 
the  wolves  made  a  closer  approach,  and  not 
knowing  what  to  do,  he  picked  up  a  stone,  and 
began  striking  it  against  the  blade  of  a  scythe 
which  he  was  carrying.  As  soon  as  he  began  this, 
the  wolves  all  ran  away,  as  if  scared  out  of  their 
wits.  The  woodsman  said,  disgusted,  "The 
plague  take  you  all,  if  I  had  known  you  liked 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  383 

that  sound  so  well,  you  should  have  had  it  be- 
fore dinner." 

But  to  return  to  the  screaming  skull  of  our 
own  Black  Forest.  For  a  few  short  weeks  in  the 
early  fifties,  a  lone  highwayman  named  Mark 
McCoy  plied  his  trade  on  the  loneliest  parts  of 
the  Coudersport  Pike.  Like  William  Brennan, 
the  hero  of  the  Irish  folk-song,  "Brennan  on  the 
Moor,"  McCoy  only  robbed  the  well-to-do  or  the 
packers;  he  was  said  to  have  made  presents  of 
money  to  the  poor,  especially  to  wretched  tramps, 
and  emigrants  who  toiled  their  weary  ways  along 
the  forest-  hidden  highway.  How  the  young 
man  got  into  this  precarious  occupation  was  a 
mystery,  although  some  hinted  that  an  unhappy 
love  affair  in  his  home  county  of  Northumber- 
land was  responsible. 

As  he  was  a  handsome,  well  set-up  fellow,  this 
seemed  hardly  believable  to  the  class  of  people 
whose  basis  of  love  and  marriage  was  external 
attractiveness.  But  there  must  have  been  other 
causes.  McCoy  had  been  left  an  orphan  when 
he  was  one  year  old;  he  was  brought  up  by 
strangers  who  were  wholly  out  of  sympathy  with 
him.    Hte  had  s'erved  a  teirin  in  ja'H  biefofrie  hfe  ap- 


384  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

peared  on  the  Pike,  although  the  sentence  was 
received  for  his  having  beaten  an  aged  farmer 
for  whom  he  worked.  The  quarrel  had  arisen  be- 
cause the  old  man  remonstrated  with  him  for 
cruelly  treating  one  of  his  farm  horses. 

Though  good-looking,  the  highwayman  pos- 
sessed a  forbidding  countenance.  He  had  ash- 
colored  hair,  brown  eyes,  which  were  always 
scowling,  a  somewhat  colorless  complexion,  and  a 
stubby,  brown  chin-beard.  The  upper  lip,  which 
was  clean-shaved,  was  contracted  and  hard. 
Physically,  he  was  powerful  to  look  at,  and  he 
knew  no  fear.  » 

His  first  victim  was  a  wealthy  lumberman 
from  Williamsport,  who  was  driving  up  the  Pike 
with  his  body-servant,  a  negro,  to  inspect  some 
pineries  which  he  owned  on  the  highlands  above 
Hyner  Run.  On  a  high  hill,  a  short  distance  be- 
yond what  is  now  the  Lebo  place,  where  the  wind 
has  swept  for  centuries  through  an  open  grove 
of  gnarled  yellow  pines,  the  highwayman, 
masked  and  booted,  appeared  from  behind  a 
hunter's  shanty,  pointing  a  brace  of  pistols  at 
them.  The  magnate  and  his  servant  threw  up 
ttieir  hands  with  ala'Critfy  and  subniitted  tb  the 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  385 

removal  of  all  their  belongings,  even  to  their 
coats  and  vests.  Then  they  were  ordered  to  turn 
about  and  drive  back  to  Jersey  Shore,  and  give 
the  alarm.  By  the  time  they  got  there,  and  the 
constables  came  out  on  the  Pike  there  was  not  a 
trace  visible  of  the  knight  of  the  road. 

At  the  time  of  the  committing  of  this  robbery. 
McCoy  had  no  particular  headquarters.  He  had 
started  up  the  Pike  aimlessly  a  week  before,  like 
so  many  others  had  done,  as  if  somewhere  in  the 
boundless  wilderness  was  a  Promised  Land.  The 
ease  in  which  he  committed  his  crime  tickled  his 
pride,  and  he  determined  to  try  again.  He 
walked  in  a  northerly  direction  over  the  bleak, 
wind-swept  plateau  until  night  began  settling 
down.  By  that  time,  he  had  come  to  a  steep 
ravine,  which  led  down  into  one  of  the  branches 
of  Slate  Run.  probably  the  South  Fork. 

The  slopes  of  the  mountain  were  covered  with 
a  dense  growth  of  white  pine  and  hemlock,  and 
it  seemed  an  interminable  distance  to  the  creek, 
which  he  could  hear,  but  not  see,  flowing  through 
the  bottom.  Although  the  hour  was  not  late,  it 
-was  pitchy  dark  where  he  was,  and  growing  cold, 
although  it  was  in  the  month  of  Jtine.    Half  way 


386  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

down  the  mountain,  he  came  to  a  path,  which  led 
in  a  circuitous  way  to  the  valley.  He  was  de- 
lighted to  find  it,  as  it  evidently  led  to  some  hab- 
itation. No  matter  who  would  be  living  there,  he 
was  sure  of  impressing  upon  the  good  people  the 
necessity  of  keeping  him  for  the  night.  At 
length,  as  he  neared  the  creek,  he  was  apprised 
of  his  approach  to  the  dwelling,  by  the  harsh 
barking  of  a  dog. 

As  he  came  out  into  the  open,  he  could  make 
out  the  lines  of  a  small  log-cabin  in  the  centre 
of  a  clearing  of  possibly  five  acres,  which  ex- 
tended on  both  sides  of  the  brook.  A  red  light, 
like  a  beacon,  glowed  in  the  windows,  and 
shone  on  the  waters  of  the  sullen,  swift  stream. 
An  improvised  bridge  consisting  of  a  giant  hem- 
lock felled  across  the  water  led  him  to  the  modest 
dwelling.  The  dog  rushed  at  him  savagely,  be- 
ing apparently  unused  to  strangers,  and  he  had 
just  enough  time  to  pick  up  a  stake  at  the  yard 
fence  to  beat  it  off.  Defending  himself  with  his 
stick  in  one  hand,  he  knocked  on  the  door  with 
the  other.  It  was  opened  after  some  hesitation 
by  a  very  attractive  looking  young  girl  whose 
eyeis  rafet  hiis  ^qukWly  as  di'e  sttWd  befdrc  him. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  387 

Instantly  he  was  charmed  by  her,  feeling  as  if 
he  had  known  her  always.  She  was  dark  and 
slender,  rather  tall,  with  jetty  black  eyes,  and  a 
peculiar  cast  of  features,  the  nose  being  aquiline 
and  turned  up  a  trifle  at  the  end,  the  lips  pale 
and  pitifully  thin.  He  told  her  in  as  few  words 
as  possible  that  he  had  lost  his  way  on  the  moun- 
tain, and  would  like  to  be  accommodated  for  the 
night.  Without  hesitation  the  girl  motioned  to 
him  to  enter.  The  room  was  almost  dark,  save 
for  the  rosy  glow  of  the  fire,  which  cast  fantastic 
shadows  on  the  walls  and  floor.  Once  inside,  the 
girl  lit  a  rushlight,  which  stood  on  a  table  by  a 
window,  enabling  the  unexpected  guest  to  look 
about  him. 

On  chairs  by  the  windows  sat  a  very  old  man 
and  a  very  old  woman.  The  woman  arose  from 
her  seat,  but  the  man  did  not  stir  a  muscle.  He 
was  a  grand  looking  old  gentleman,  with  a  mas- 
sive head  covered  with  stiff  white  hair,  his  fea- 
tures were  prominent  and  boldly  cut;  he  was  a 
picture  of  Andrew  Jackson  in  his  latter  days. 
McCoy  looked  at  him  closely,  and  noticed  that 
the  patriarch  was  blind. 


388  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

"Please  excuse  me  for  intruding  so  late  in 
the  evening,"  said  the  stranger,  ''but  as  I  was 
telling  this  young  lady,  I  became  lost  in  the 
forest,  and  appeared  here  quite  by  accident.  My 
name  is  Mark  McCoy,  and  I  come  from  down 
country,  near  Sunbury,  I  am  a  timber  prospector 
by  occupation. ' ' 

The  old  woman  said  that  she  was  glad  to  be  of 
service  to  a  bewildered  forester,  while  the  old 
man  muttered  something,  probably  to  the  same 
effect.  Then  the  young  girl  said  that  the  old 
couple  were  her  grandparents,  Burkheiser  by 
name,  that  they  had  moved  into  the  Black  Forest 
from  Berks  County  five  years  before.  Her 
mother,  she  said,  had  been  dead  for  many  years, 
but  her  father,  who  was  the  old  man's  only  son, 
had  been  killed  by  a  falling  log  on  Tiadaghton  a 
year  previous  and  that  her  name  was  Ava  Burk- 
heiser. With  all  these  explanations  made, 
friendly  relations  were  established,  and  the  girl 
set  about  to  prepare  some  supper  for  the  guest. 
McCoy  could  be  pleasant  when  he  wanted  to  be, 
and  thanked  the  family  for  their  cordial  greet- 
ing, adding  that  he  would  pay  them  well  for  any 
troUbli?  he  might  cause  them. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  389 

During  the  supper  the  old  woman,  who  was 
naturally  a  talkative  soul,  and  saw  few  strangers 
with  whom  to  exchange  ideas,  told  more  of  the 
family  history.  She  had  never  ceased  regretting 
leaving  her  comfortable  homestead  near  Probst's 
Town  in  AUeminga,  in  Berks,  for  this  lonesome 
life  in  the  wilderness.  Her  son  Adam,  the  father 
of  Ava,  was  a  great  hunter,  and  had  killed  much 
big  game  on  the  Pinnacle,  the  highest  point  in 
the  Blue  Mountains,  which  was  near  their  old 
home.  The  growing  scarcity  of  wild  animals 
had  made  him  desirous  of  moving  into  a  wilder 
country,  so  he  had  induced  his  parents  to  sell 
everything  and  come  with  him  to  the  Black  For- 
est. He  had  been  very  successful  as  a  hunter, 
killing  as  many  as  fifty  bears  in  a  winter.  But 
they  never  saw  anybody ;  there  was  not  a  human 
habitation  in  the  eight  miles  between  their  cabin 
and  the  Pike,  except  a  hunting  shack  across  the 
hill,  where  lived  a  little  hunch-backed  Indian 
named  Seneca  White.  This  Indian  was  middle- 
aged  and  infirm,  but  the  greatest  hunter  in  three 
counties.  He  came  to  visit  them  occasionally; 
they  were  always  glad  to  see  him,  and  he  played 
80  well  on  the  flute. 


390  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

Early  the  next  morning,  McCoy  returned  to 
the  Pike,  waiting  all  day  for  some  fresh  victim, 
but  none  appeared.  On  the  second  day  he  met 
and  held  up  a  band  of  five  constables,  who  were 
out  looking  for  him  with  a  warrant  obtained  by 
his  first  victim,  the  Williamsport  lumberman. 
That  night  he  arrived  at  the  Burkheiser  cabin 
as  unconcerned  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  He 
hid  his  weapons  and  disguise  in  the  woods,  so 
that  if  the  place  was  entered  and  searched,  noth- 
ing incriminating  could  be  found.  He  was 
deeply  in  love  with  Ava,  and  flattered  himself 
to  think  that  his  ardor  was  reciprocated.  He 
kept  away  from  the  Pike  for  several  days,  re- 
turning at  length  to  hold  up  a  well-to-do  peddler. 

These  robberies  were  kept  up  at  intervals  of 
three  or  four  days  for  several  weeks,  to  the  grow- 
ing terror  of  the  traveling  public.  He  never 
molested  the  mail-wagon,  or  as  stated  before, 
poor  people.  Consequently,  the  outcry  against 
him  was  slower  at  developing  than  it  otherwise 
might  have  been.  He  made  presents  to  some 
poor  travelers,  whom  he  could  have  robbed. 
Some  nights  he  laid  out  among  the  ferns,  but 
generally  Ava  was  the  loadstone  that  drew  him 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  891 

back  to  the  humble  cabin.  He  paid  so  liberally 
for  his  entertainment  that  no  questions  were 
asked. 

One  afternoon  he  encountered  a  young  at- 
torney from  Smethport,  who  was  on  his  way  on 
horseback  to  "Williamsport.  The  youth  was  car- 
rying a  large  sum  of  money  to  pay  some  back 
taxes  on  some  unseated  lands  in  Lycoming 
County.  He  had  been  fully  warned  about  the 
highwayman,  but  laughingly  declared  that  he 
could  take  care  of  himself.  In  holsters,  on  his 
saddle,  he  carried  loaded  pistols,  and  his  keen 
eyes  scanned  the  road  with  the  unconcern  of  a 
brave  man.  But  out  of  the  dense  hemlocks 
came  the  order  to  throw  up  his  hands.  Instead 
he  dug  the  spurs  into  his  big  bay  horse's  flanks 
and  started  down  the  road  at  a  gaUop.  As  thus 
far  McCoy  had  never  let  a  person  escape,  he  shot 
after  the  fleeing  horseman.  One  of  the  bullets 
went  through  his  back,  coming  out  at  the  breast, 
but  the  young  lawyer  gamely  held  his  place  on 
the  saddle,  riding  on.  The  hemorrhage  was  so 
intense  that  he  welcomed  the  sight  of  a  house. 
He  drew  rein  before  the  cabin  of  Horatio  Nelson, 
as  he  did  so  losing  his  balance  and  falling  to  the 


392  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

turf.  The  woodsman  and  his  good  wife  rushed 
forward,  and  picked  up  the  poor  fellow,  carrying 
him  tenderly  into  the  house.  He  had  never 
spoken,  and  soon  lapsed  into  unconsciousness, 
dying  two  hours  later. 

Back  at  the  scene  of  the  shooting,  the  knight  of 
the  road  became  possessed  of  the  feeling  that  he 
had  killed  his  man.  It  was  a  rash  act ;  it  would 
put  the  arm  of  the  law  after  him  so  strongly  that 
there  would  be  no  escape.  He  would  have  to 
leave  the  country ;  the  west  always  had  a  fascina- 
tion for  him;  he  would  ask  Ava  to  marry  him 
and  they  could  go  to  the  Mississippi  Country  and 
take  up  a  homestead.  All  these  thoughts  passed 
through  his  head  as  he  walked  over  the  desolate 
highlands  towards  his  sweetheart's  cabin.  He 
strode  into  the  house  with  utter  unconcern, 
and  laughed  and  joked  all  through  the  supper. 

In  the  evening  after  Ava  had  finished  her 
work,  he  invited  her  to  go  with  him  for  a  stroll. 
It  was  a  calm,  lovely  evening,  and  the  sunset's 
red  rays  lingered  long  above  the  feathery  tips  of 
the  old  hemlocks.  At  dusk  the  whippoorwills 
commenced  their  songs,  continuing  until  the 
moon  rose  above  the  forest.    Then  all  was  still. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  393 

save  for  the  occasional  lament  of  a  killdeer,  Mc- 
Coy waited  until  it  was  time  to  walk  back  to  the 
cottage  before  declaring  his  love.  He  told  the 
girl  that  he  had  decided  to  go  to  the  west,  where 
there  were  greater  opportunities,  and  that  he 
would  like  her  to  marry  him  and  go  along.  He 
would  have  departed  days  before,  only  he  could 
not  go  without  her.  Without  waiting  for  an 
answer,  he  caught  her  in  his  arms,  giving  her  a 
tight  embrace  and  many  kisses. 

As  gently  as  she  could,  Ava  wrenched  herself 
free  and  stood  facing  him  in  the  moonlight.  She 
looked  like  a  spirit,  with  her  white  frock  and  so 
slim  and  pale  in  the  moonlight.  With  a  firm 
voice,  she  said  that  while  she  deeply  appreciated 
his  wanting  to  make  her  his  wife,  she  could  never 
marry,  let  alone  leave  her  grandparents.  McCoy 
tried  to  take  her  in  his  arms  again,  but  she 
backed  up  against  the  fence.  He  tried  to  explain 
to  her  that  he  would  gladly  pay  the  expenses  of 
bringing  the  old  couple  to  the  west,  would  make 
them  a  comfortable  home,  if  only  she  would 
marry  him.  He  dared  not  say  that  he  would 
marry  her  and  remain  in  the  Black  Forest,  for 


894  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

he  knew  only  too  well  that  the  authorities  were 
on  his  trail. 

But  Ava  shook  her  head,  and  said  that  it  was 
time  for  her  to  be  getting  to  bed.  The  lover 
asked  her  if  she  eared  for  him,  to  which  she 
answered  that  she  did,  but  not  enough  to  marry 
him  and  leave  her  relatives. 

The  bold  highwayman  was  humbled  complete* 
ly,  and  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  spending 
the  night  in  the  cabin.  With  a  voice  full  of  emo- 
tion, he  bade  her  good-bye.  Taking  several  gold 
pieces  from  his  pocket,  the  proceeds  of  one  of 
his  hold-ups,  he  handed  them  to  her  for  the 
old  folks,  to  pay  the  balance  of  his  board  and 
lodging. 

' '  I  want  to  show  my  appreciation  of  the  kind 
way  in  which  I  have  been  treated  here,"  he  said 
sadly,  as  he  turned  away.  He  came  back  after 
he  had  taken  a  few  steps,  asking  the  girl  to 
make  up  a  lunch  for  him,  as  he  would  be  several 
days  in  the  forest.  To  this  she  gladly  assented, 
and  he  went  with  her  to  the  kitchen  while  she 
prepared  it  by  the  flickering  gleams  of  the  rush- 
light. It  was  placed  in  a  little  oaken  basket, 
which  she  said  that  old  Seneca  White,  who  was  a 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  395 

clever  basket-maker,  as  well  as  hunter  and  mu- 
sician, had  fashioned. 

Then  he  clasped  her  hand,  and  left  the  cabin. 
The  girl  watched  him  while  he  crossed  the  foot- 
log  over  the  run,  the  moonlight  streaming  down 
on  him.  He  was  a  man  of  mystery,  and  she  was 
glad  he  was  going  away.  Once  more  in  the  for- 
est, McCoy  followed  the  path  half  way  to  the  top 
of  the  mountain,  and  then  left  it,  and  headed  in 
a  westerly  direction.  By  morning,  he  would 
turn  to  the  north,  and  get  to  New  York  State  as 
directly  as  possible.  There  he  might  climb  on  the 
steam  railway  train  unobserved;  it  would  take 
him  to  the  western  country. 

But  at  daybreak  he  was  filled  with  an  irre- 
pressable  desire  to  return  to  Ava's  cabin.  He 
found  that  he  could  not  live  without  her.  He 
would  ask  her  to  marry  him,  and  let  him  go  west 
and  make  a  home  for  her.  He  would  live  alone 
until  her  grandparents  died,  then  she  could  join 
him  if  her  sense  of  duty  would  not  let  her  go 
now.  He  tried  to  fight  against  this  inclination  to 
return ;  his  conscience  told  him  that  it  was  a  fool- 
hardy move;  surely  the  sheriff's  posse  would 
visit  the  cabin,  and  be  on  his  tracks,  as  they 


896  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

would  hear  of  a  stranger  having  been  harbored 
there. 

It  was  a  silly  surrender,  after  making  good  his 
escape.  But  love  was  stronger  than  the  sense  of 
self-preservation.  He  turned  back.  Sometimes 
his  heart  was  heavy,  at  other  times  it  was  glad; 
it  seemed  as  if  there  were  two  personalities  al- 
ternately ruling  his  nature.  He  traveled  slowly, 
as  he  did  not  wish  to  reach  Slate  Run  before 
dark.  He  would  come  into  the  creek  at  its  head- 
waters and  slip  up  as  close  to  the  cabin  as  he 
could  without  being  observed.  If  only  that  dog 
would  not  bark.  But  he  had  been  told  that  it 
always  barked  when  a  night-prowling  bear  or 
wolf  came  near  to  the  premises.  It  might  not 
cause  a  commotion. 

The  whippoorwills  had  ceased  their  sad  songs, 
and  the  moon  was  rising  as  he  neared  the  spring 
where  this  branch  of  Slate  Run  had  its  source. 
It  was  a  pretty  spot,  where  a  jet  of  clear  water  as 
thick  as  a  man's  arm  gushed  from  out  of  the 
moss-grown  rocks.  Large  stones  had  been  piled 
up  on  either  side  of  it  for  seats.  It  was  an  ideal 
resting  place  on  a  summer's  day,  overhung  as  it 
was  by  giant  hemlocks. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  397 

As  he  neared  the  spring,  he  heard  voices. 
Could  it  be  the  sheriffs  and  constables  conferring 
over  his  escape?  He  listened  intently;  it  was 
Ava's  voice;  he  knew  it  well,  and  another's, 
hardly  like  a  man's  way  of  talking,  yet  not  a 
woman's,  so  squeaky  and  so  strangely  accented. 

In  the  dead  silence  he  heard  distinctly  these 
words  from  the  lips  of  his  beloved:  "That 
stranger  wanted  to  marry  me  and  take  me  west ; 
I  told  him  that  I  could  not  leave  the  old  folks; 
in  truth,  I  could  not  leave  you.  You  are  the  only 
love  I  will  ever  have. ' ' 

McCoy's  heart  stood  still,  and  like  a  ghost  he 
crept  nearer  to  the  awful  spot.  A  quavering 
shaft  of  moonlight  revealed  the  couple  to  him. 
There  was  the  frail,  beautiful  Ava,  clasped  in  the 
arras  of  an  ill-favored,  undersized  Indian,  with 
a  fox-like  face,  and  long  dark  hair  hanging 
about  his  eyes. 

The  rejected  lover  had  an  impulse  to  shoot 
them  both,  but  he  recalled  his  hasty  move  the 
day  before  when  probably  his  killing  a  man  had 
made  him  the  fugitive  he  now  was.  He  put  the 
pistol  back  in  his  belt,  then  took  it  out  again. 
Creeping  close  to  where  the  lovers  stood,  he  wait- 


398  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

ed  until  a  moonray  illumined  the  scene.  Then  he 
fired  once,  twice ;  there  were  two  piercing 
shrieks,  followed  by  the  barking  of  a  dog.  Then 
all  was  still  again,  and  he  hastened  up  the  moun- 
tain path.  On  the  summit,  he  turned  south, 
and  started  towards  the  bleak  upland  where 
the  aged  yellow  pines  swayed  their  knotted 
branches  in  the  night  wind.  Bathed  in  moon- 
light, they  looked  like  a  regiment  of  ghosts. 
When  he  reached  the  hunter's  shanty  on  the 
Pike,  he  loosed  his  belt  of  rope,  tieing  it  in  a 
noose  about  his  neck.  Then  he  climbed  up  in 
the  old  yellow  pine,  which  grew  back  of  the  hut, 
straddling  one  of  the  branches.  He  fastened  the 
rope  securely  about  the  branch,  and  dropped  off 
into  space.  As  the  noose  tightened  about  his 
throat,  voluntarily  or  involuntarily,  a  piercing 
scream  like  uttered  by  his  recent  victims  broke 
from  his  lips.  It  echoed  and  re-echoed  among 
the  pines.  Then  all  was  silent,  save  for  the 
night  wind  singing  with  the  old  pines.  All  night 
long  the  dark  figure  dangled  from  the  tree,  the 
hands  swaying  and  gesticulating  in  attitudes  al- 
most alive,  the  moonlight  giving  weird,  hideous 
elxptTSsibns  tb  the  fiabief. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  E99 

Shortly  after  dawn,  an  armed  body  of  men  re- 
cruited in  Jersey  Shore  and  along  the  Pike  rode 
close  to  where  the  corpse  was  hanging.  One  of 
the  horses  shied,  and  that  was  how  it  came  to  be 
discovered.  The  posse  dismounted,  grouping 
themselves  about  the  frightful  effigy.  Among 
the  party  was  a  sheriff  and  coroner,  the  latter 
official  just  having  come  from  the  Nelson  cabin 
down  the  road,  where  lay  the  body  of  the 
murdered  attorney  from  Smethport,  shot  in  the 
back.  A  struck  jury  was  formed,  and  it  was  de- 
cided to  bury  the  suicide  at  the  foot  of  the  tree 
on  which  he  had  hung  himself.  He  was  cut 
down,  and  his  pockets  searched.  Two  hundred 
dollars  in  gold  and  silver  coins  were  discovered, 
besides  various  papers,  which  had  belonged  to  his 
victims.  The  highwayman  of  the  Pike  had  died 
like  a  coward  because  he  feared  arrest,  they  all 
averred,  as  they  buried  him  in  a  shallow  grave, 
dug  principally  with  a  rusty  potato-hook,  which 
they  found  in  the  shanty.  But  the  real  reason, 
the  heart  reason  for  his  death  was  not  known  un- 
til days  afterwards,  nor  his  name  and  identity. 

That  autumn  when  Levi  Trexler,  the  owner  of 
the  shack,  appeaTcrd  on  the  scene  with  his  dCgs, 


400  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

intent  on  chasing  deer,  the  savage  animals  dug 
up  the  highwayman's  skull.  The  hunter  had 
heard  of  the  suicide  and  burial  of  the  outlaw, 
and  laughed  when  he  saw  the  skull,  with  the 
brown  chin-beard  still  growing  on  it.  Like  he 
would  do  with  a  catamount's  head,  he  nailed  it 
above  the  cabin-door.  That  night  he  was 
awakened  by  a  piercing  scream,  which  woke  the 
echoes  of  the  lonely  mountain  top.  He  pulled 
his  wolfskin  robe  over  his  head,  swearing  softly 
in  Pennsylvania  German. 

The  dogs  set  up  such  a  terrific  uproar,  that  at 
length  his  courage  returned  sufficiently  to  get 
out  of  bed  to  club  them  into  silence.  As  he  went 
out  of  the  door,  the  skull,  evidently  broken  loose 
by  the  wind,  tumbled  doA\Ti  striking  him  on  the 
top  of  his  bald  cranium.  With  a  yell,  almost  as 
terrible  as  the  one  which  had  roused  him  from 
his  slumbers  he  ran  down  the  road  as  if  pursued 
by  demons,  until  he  fell  exhausted  in  the  deep 
sand.  He  lay  there  until  morning,  when  two  of 
his  hunting  comrades  who  were  on  their  way  to 
join  him  at  the  camp,  found  him  and  dragged 
him  to  the  shack.     The  visitors  picked  up  the 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  401 

skull,  and  buried  it  in  the  desecrated  grave. 
That  night  the  dogs  dug  it  up  again,  and  once 
more  the  piercing  scream  resounded  over  the 
desolate  upland.  The  three  hunters  were  fright- 
fully alarmed,  abandoning  the  camp  at  day- 
break. 

In  the  depth  of  winter,  during  a  sudden  thaw, 
a  packer's  team  became  mired  near  the 
abandoned  shanty,  and  the  good  fellow  deter- 
mined to  spend  the  night  there.  In  walking 
around  the  cabin  looking  for  pine-knots  to  start 
a  fire  he  noticed  the  decaying  skull.  Picking  it 
up  in  a  spirit  of  jest,  he  hung  it  by  one  of  its  eye- 
sockets  on  the  stump  of  a  broken-off  branch  of 
the  ancient  pine  tree.  During  the  night,  the  man 
was  aroused  by  a  horrible  yell,  which  sent  him 
from  his  bunk  as  if  hit  by  a  bullet.  He  ran  out 
of  doors,  but  could  see  nothing.  He  sat  the  re- 
mainder of  the  night  in  his  wagon  and  at  day- 
break forced  his  team  ahead,  almost  cudgeling 
the  horses  to  death  to  get  away  from  the  ghastly 
surroundings. 

In  the  springtime  a  party  of  fishermen  decided 
to  spend  a  night  in  the  hut.    They  saw  the  skull 


402  BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 

hooked  to  the  pine  tree,  and  knew  the  story  of 
the  place,  but  all  agreed  that  they  were  not 
afraid.  During  the  night  they  were  put  in  a 
state  of  panic  by  the  horrid  scream  which  had 
frightened  so  many  others.  They  decided  to 
leave  at  the  first  signs  *of  dawn,  but  before  doing 
so,  one  of  the  party  took  the  skull  and  pitched  it 
away  as  far  as  he  could  among  the  sweet-ferns 
and  huckleberry  bushes. 

Some  children,  belonging  to  a  party  of  emi- 
grants, who  had  stopped  at  the  spring  across  the 
Pike  from  the  shack  for  their  mid-day  meal, 
found  the  skull,  and  ran  laughing  with  it  to  their 
elders.  The  superstitious  Germans  ordered  the 
little  folks  to  take  it  back  to  where  they  had 
found  it.  Instead  of  doing  so,  with  childish  per- 
versity, they  set  it  on  the  door-step  of  the  cabin. 
There  it  remained  unnoticed  until  a  timber 
prospector  came  to  .the  shanty  for  the  night. 
With  a  show  of  unconcern,  he  tossed  the  skull 
on  the  shanty  roof.  At  midnight  the  hideous 
scream  resounded  upon  his  ears ;  he  sprang  from 
his  bunk  and  ran  out,  hurrying  along  the  road. 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS  403 

puffing  and  wheezing  until  daylight  eased  his 
fears. 

During  the  month  of  November  Horatio  Nel- 
son and  his  wife  were  going  to  a  corn- 
husking  party  to  be  held  at  the  home  of  another 
old  settler,  William  Green,  who  lived  several 
miles  up  the  Pike.  Out  of  curiosity  they  stopped 
to  look  at  the  scene  of  the  high  way  m^i's  suicide. 
The  good  woman  with  her  native  intuition 
noticed  the  grinning  bearded  skull  resting  on  the 
shanty  roof. 

*'0h,  Horatio,"  she  called,  ''it's  an  awful 
shame  to  keep  that  fellow's  head  there,  arch  mur- 
derer though  he  may  be.  Let's  give  it  decent 
burial. 

The  hardy  pioneer  had  promised  to  loan  the 
Green  boys  a  grubbing  hoe,  and  had  it  with  him, 
so  this  was  an  easy  matter.  While  he  was  hook- 
ing the  skull  down  from  the  roof,  the  wife 
noticed  the  torn-up,  dilapidated  grave  beneath 
the  pine  tree.  She  pointed  it  out  to  her  husband 
and  told  him  to  dig  the  grave  deeper.  The  skull 
and  the  bones  were  re-interred  in  a  deep  pit,  and 
heavy  stones  laid  over  the  remains,  so  that  they 
could  not  be  dug  out  by  dogs  or  ^vild  animals. 


404 


BLACK  FOREST  SOUVENIRS 


And  to  this  day,  although  the  grave  is  well 
known,  no  more  has  been  heard  of  the  screaming 
skull. 


INDEX 


Name  op  Legend  Locauty  Told  to  Compilek  by 

I.  John    Decker's    Centre  County,  Clearfield  John  Decker, 

Elk  County,  Potter  County  Lewis  E.  Miller.  21 

II.  Why  the  Senecas  Potter  County  Billy  Shongo, 

Would  Not  Eat  Jacob  Fenstermaker.  39 

Trout 

III.  Young  Woman's  Clinton    County,    Potter  William  Patterson. 

Creek  County  56 

IV.  Conquering  Fate  Potter    County,    Mifflin  W.  R.  Wagner, 

County  J.  R.  Ramsey, 

Geo.  Cast,  77 

V.  In  the  Rafters    McKean  County  Thomas    G.    Simcox    and 

thers.  96 

VI.  The  Winter  of  Potter  County  James  Dougharty, 

the  Wolves  Sam'l.  L.  Wallize, 

Mrs.  Anna  Stabley.  114 

VII.  The  Three  Rivers  Potter  County  Thomas  G.  Simcox.  136 

VIII.  A  Story  of  Re-     Tioga  County,  Schuylkill   Jacob    Portzline, 

gina  County,    Lycoming  Thomas  G.  Simcox. 

County  158 

IX.  The  Death  Shout  Clearfield  County,  Potter  Jacob  Quiggle. 

County  195 

X.  The  Healing        Clinton  County  Thomas  G.  Simcox 

Spring  213 

XI.  A  Hunter's         McKean  County,  Potter  James  Dougharty, 

Daughter  County  C.  W.  Dickinson, 

P.  L.  Webster.  231 

XII.  The  Moment  the  Clinton  County  John  Q.  Dyce. 

Lights  Were 

Lit  253 

XIII.  Hugh  Mitchel-    Potter  County  Geo.  Mitcheltree. 

tree  275 

XIV.  George  Shover's  Lycoming   Couny,   Clin-  Charlie  Crawford, 

Panther  ton  County  M.  Button.  296 


XV,  The  Tramper       Potter  Oouuty  D.  A.  Kohler  and  other8.315 

XVI.  Little  Eed  Rid-    Lycoming  County,  Potter  Charlie  Crawford, 

ing  Hood  County  P.  Lanks.  335 

XA^n.     The  Cursed  Potter  County  George  Gast. 

Woods  •    367 

XVIII.  The   Screaming   Potter  County  George  Gast, 

Skull  H.  Shurr.  380 

ILLUSTRATIONS 

Illustrations,  from  photographs  by  W.  T.  Clarke,  Betula,  Pa.,  frontispiece. 

head,  and  tail-pieces  by  Miss  Katharine  H.  McCormick. 

Philadelphia,  Pa. 


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